Mercy
by Pointless Things
Summary: Series 2 AU: Tragedy strikes Tom and Sybil in York. Yes, I will continue writing this fic!
1. Chapter 1

**Please be kind! This is my first story. It will be multi chaptered. I have the whole story planned out in my head, but only about 30% of the second chapter is written. If there are mistakes, please tell me and I'll get it sorted out. I hope you like it! Happy Reading!**

**This story is dedicated to MissPixieWay. The first two week KYEC hiatus got me back into writing, so I gotta thank her! ALSO I forgot to add that she helped me flesh out the hospital scenes, so I gotta give her a HUGE thanks!  
**

Chapter One

As the Renault chugged down the road away from York, the driver at the wheel was in a completely different world. Tom Branson was drowning in his thoughts. Nothing could save him except for a certain Lady he had dropped off at York ten minutes previous.

'_You're a fool Tom Branson. An absolute fool. How could you even think that she would want a life with you. She's never given any indication that she loves you.'_

"But we held hands…"

'_You reached for her hand. You held her hand. You confessed your love to her. Your love for each other is all one sided.'_

"I'm her friend. We've spent so much time together. She must feel something for me."

'_She can't feel anything for you. You're just her chauffeur. You have nothing in comparison to what she has now. What makes you think she would give that all up for you. You thinking that she would give up her life for you just proves that you're selfish. You don't deserve her…'_

"…I can't stop loving her…."

'_You have to…'_

"Maybe I do…"

'_It's only for the better Tom. You know that nothing can come of a relationship with her. You'll never be accepted by her family and she, yours. Just hand in your notice and go back to Ireland. There's nothing for you here anymore.'_

"She said not to leave."

'_She doesn't hold you anymore. She let you go when she didn't accept you.'_

"I won't be happy with anyone else unless she walks the Earth."

'_You'll find someone else. It may be second best, but at least you won't be alone.'_

Tom was silent. Were his thoughts right? Should he just leave? Everything in his body told him that he should forget her. There are plenty of girls in Ireland, but they're nothing compared to her. She's smart, beautiful, strong, and courageous. Maybe someone in Ireland had she same qualities that she had, but he doubted it.

Leading up to dropping her off at York, his dreams were haunted by dark curls, sapphire eyes, soft ivory skin, and a beautifully raspy voice. He would wake up in a cold sweat, knowing that the woman in his dreams was only a short distance away, but impossible to win. Every fiber of his being worshipped her and he wanted her to know. He thought she had felt the same. He wanted to catch her alone, to try and draw an honest response out of her so she wouldn't have to admit it in front of other people. If she wasn't ready for other people to know, she could admit it only to him. He gave her his heart and she tossed it aside.

She was flattered. Flattered.

The decision had already been made.

"I'm so sorry Sybil. Please forgive me."

Tom was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't see the lorry opposite him had drifted into his lane and headed towards the Renault. Tom grabbed the handbrake and pulled as hard as he could. The headlights from the lorry were blinding and Tom shut his eyes and gripped the wheel.

"God have mercy on me."

. . .

Matron Jones was not a very tall woman. Her nurses cap was pinned tightly to her head making her face look more hard, angular, and severe than it really was. She was tough as nails and her face was wiped clean of any emotion.

"Welcome to your first day of training. There is no room for weakness here. If you can't keep your emotions in check, you will have no hope in treating your patients."

Sybil tried to pay attention, but her thoughts were in a different world.

'_Tom…Of all the days you decide to declare your love for me, you pick today.'_

"Although today is your first day, you will be meeting the patients you will be attending to during these two months. I know that none of you have proper training, but I would like you to meet your patient so you can start to build a relationship with them. You may think that this is pointless, but you must remember that it is nurses that care for patients, not doctors. Getting to know your patient is just as important as administering medicine or taking their vital signs. Let's begin. Anderson, Hannah. You will be assigned to the patient at the end of this row. Boxley, Susan. You will be…"

'_You've put me in an impossible position Tom. I'm going to be away from my family for two months, caring for myself in a place where I know no one. For the next two months, I can only think of nursing and my studies. Your proposal put even more thoughts into my head that I can't have. I need to focus and your words have clouded my thoughts…Your words touched my heart. No one has ever said anything like that to me before. I'm sorry that I was cruel and made you promise to stay at Downton without giving you an answer. I need a friend, now more than ever. I can't lose you or your friendship. I miss you. My heart flutters every time I see you. I dream of holding hands again, your broad shoulders and of your arms around me in a warm embrace. Of course, I would never tell you that… I do care for you, so much more than you could ever know, but I can't be responsible for year heart when I'm so unsure of mine…'_

"Crawley!"

Sybil snapped out of her daze. "Yes Matron Jones?"

"Why are you still standing there?"

Sybil looked around to her peers. She was alone. Where did they all go?

"All the other trainees have been assigned to their patients. Get to yours."

"Yes matron."

Sybil was assigned to the patient at the corner of the room, a man named Samuel Horton. He was sleeping when she opened the curtain. Young and strong, 19 with brown hair and brown eyes, stocky and tan from a lifetime of farm work. He was devastatingly handsome. His breathing was labored yet shallow. His skin was pale and he was sweating through his sheets. Sybil didn't start her training yet, but she knew that this young man was close to death.

The senior nurse checking Samuel's pulse when she entered.

"Hello, my name is Sybil Crawley. I'm the trainee nurse. I've been assigned to look after Samuel."

"Hello Sybil. My name is Nurse Delpy. I presume today is your first day. I'll be helping you with your hands-on training while you're here. This is your patient Samuel."

Nurse Delpy was an import from France. She had worked for the Red Cross and was a nurse at the front lines, but she volunteered to travel to York since there were few senior nurses training new nurses. She was blonde and her accent was thick, but Sybil caught onto her accent quickly. Thank goodness for learning drawing room French. She may need it.

Nurse Delpy took her outside of the curtain, lowered her voice, and continued. "Samuel is not well. He has pneumonia. We've tried everything to drain the fluid from his lungs, but the fluid keeps coming back. I'm so sorry to tell you Nurse Crawley, but our patient does not have much time."

A strained and scratchy voice came from behind the curtain. "Nurse?"

Sybil froze like a deer in the headlights. She had never dealt with death before. Sure, there was Patrick, but she wasn't there for his last moments. To witness someone's last moments of life was absolutely terrifying. For a split second she thought she didn't have the strength to do it. She then thought of Tom. She wouldn't want him to die alone.

She would not deny this man.

"Go to him Sybil. I know this is difficult, but the earlier we come face to face with death, the better we can learn to deal with grief."

She had no way out. She knew this would maker her a better nurse in the end, but this would rip her heart out and tear it to shreds. Sybil took two deep breaths and walked through the curtain and stood next to his bed. It took a few moments to gather her last bits of courage to look at his face.

'_He's so young…His whole life is ahead of him and it's going to be cruelly stolen away from him.'_

Sybil fought the tears she felt welling in her eyes. "Hello Samuel. My name is Nurse Crawley. I'll be your nurse. While you're here, I promise I will do my best to make you better. I'll take good care of you."

Samuel opened his eyes and her eyes met his. He swallowed and took a deep breathe in. "Hello…Nurse…Crawley…"

"Don't strain yourself for me. Just relax and let me take care of you."

He had tears in his eyes, "I know…I don't have…much time…please…I don't want…to die…alone…"

A tear escaped her eyes. "What would you like me to do?"

"Talk…to me…about…anything…"

Sybil couldn't think. She was about to witness this man's last moments of life on her first day of training. She took his limp hand in hers and sat down on the chair next to his bed.

"Do you know when you're in love Samuel?"

He nodded his head and squeezed her hand. "Please Nurse Crawley…Call me…Sam…"

"What does it feel like?"

"I'm not sure…I can describe it…you just…know…"

"Have you ever been in love Sam?"

"Aye. There's a girl…in York…I proposed…she said no…but…I…still…have…hope…"

More tears were threatening to fall from her eyes, but she forced them not to fall. "What's her name?"

A smile grew on his face and he closed his eyes, "Abigail…she's…so…beautiful…"

"Tell me more about her Sam…Sam?"

His hand was limp and she looked at his chest. No movement.

She let go of his hand and placed it back in his lap. She got up and rushed out and shut the curtain. She ran out of the room, past Nurse Delpy, and into the hallway. She heard Nurse Delpy call out her name, but she was too far away and too ashamed to respond. She clutched her stomach and gasped for air. Sam was so young. It wasn't fair. True she had only known the man for only five minutes, but she couldn't help but think of Tom. She had broken his heart as Abigail had broken Sam's. Tears streamed down her face and she was sobbing uncontrollably.

Matron Jones's words echoed in her ears. _'If you can't keep your emotions in check, you will have no hope in treating your patients.'_

Sybil straightened up and wiped her face. She took deep breaths to calm the hiccups. She stoned her face and walked to the matron's office. She knocked on the door and waited for an answer.

"Please come in."

Sybil walked into the office and found Matron Jones sitting in her desk with her head in her hands. Papers littered her desktop, but it was all in neat stacked.

She looked up and addressed Sybil. "Ah Crawley, isn't it?"

"Yes matron"

"Is there something you needed?"

Sybil lowered her head and a tear escaped. "It's Sam Horton, Matron. He succumbed to his illness tonight. He was my patient."

Matron Jones got up from behind her desk and went to a silently crying Sybil. Matron Jones lifted Sybil's chin with her hand. "Don't cry my girl. Death is a natural part of life. As a nurse, we must deal with death all the time. You must not let it get to you. Samuel is in a better place now."

Sybil nodded, but she couldn't speak, fearing that only more sobs would only escape.

"Come girl. We have a new patient. He was admitted within the last half hour. You will tend to him now that Samuel has passed."

Matron Jones led Sybil to the emergency ward as more silent tears streaked Sybil's face. They entered the ward and Matron Jones stopped her from passing through the curtain.

"Crawley. Behind these curtains, you will see unimaginable horror. This man was in a car accident not long ago. He is bloodied and bruised. We do not know his name, nor do we know where he is from. I can guarantee that you have never seen anything like this before. You must steel yourself. You cannot cry. When patients see weakness and hopelessness in their nurses, they lose all hope. We are beacons of hope and healing. Do not forget that Crawley."

"Yes Matron. Thank you Matron."

Sybil knew that she couldn't break down like she did in front of Sam. This would be different. She cleared her mind and opened the curtain. Sybil gasped in horror.

It was the deep forest green uniform that gave him away. Blood covered his forehead and matted his fair hair to his face. There were cuts all over his face and hands. There was a deep gash above his eyebrow and it was still bleeding profusely. His eyes were lined with black and his bottom lip had split. His uniform was torn across his chest revealing the skin underneath the layers of cloth. Glass, metal, gravel, and bits of grass and leaves were stuck to his uniform and were embedded into his skin.

Sybil stopped dead in her tracks. She couldn't see Tom like this, bloodied and broken. Every fiber of her being wanted to run away and make her forget what she had seen. She desperately tired to recall the feeling of his hand enfolding hers at the garden party. She tired to remember their long conversations and debates on politics and life. She wanted to remember every moment she had with Tom since he came to Downton, but none came. The image of his battered body had made its mark on her. She would never forget this.

She wished she could go back in time and tell him how much of a friend he was to her, how much she cared for him, how much she loved him.

She wished she had told him yes.

Matron Jones saw Sybil's hesitation and mistook her fear and regret for shock.

"This is what you must get used to seeing Crawley. You must remain calm and stay. You must resist every urge to run out and cry. That will not help the patient. The well being of the patient comes before your any of your weaknesses. Since Nurse Deply is not with you right now, I will assist you in cleaning him and bandaging him."

Sybil took the small bowl of water and cloth on the side of his bed and started to dab away the blood from his forehead as Matron Jones remove Tom's uniform. Sybil started to blush as she saw Tom's bare chest, but she didn't let on. She kept dabbing his face and focused on removing the broken glass from his hair. Matron Jones proceeded to cut away at his trousers and Sybil couldn't hide her blush any longer.

Matron Jones sensed Sybil's growing uncomfortableness. "You may leave for now. You've been through a lot today. I will call you back when he is decent again. You will bandage the wounds on his chest and his head when you come back."

Sybil exited and felt her face. It was burning. If there was a mirror around, there was no doubt that she was a red as a cherry. She fanned her face with her hand kept thoughts of Tom's broad chest out of her mind. This was completely inappropriate and unprofessional, but she couldn't help but look.

She composed herself as Matron Jones emerged from behind the curtain. "I'll leave this bit you. I'll come back and make sure you did it right. First, disinfect his wounds with iodine. Then, dab ointment on the disinfected wounds. Cover the wound with gauze. To secure the gauze, wrap the bandage around the head, arm, or chest. Good luck Crawley."

The matron handed her the bandage and left Sybil standing alone at the foot on Tom's bed. Tom was fast asleep with the covers stopping right above his hips. His broad chest was on display for Sybil to see and she was taking in the sight. He was much more muscular in person than her dreams…

Sybil walked over to the side of his bed and touched the side of his face. It was still warm, but she refused to press any harder than a feather touch. He was so fragile in this state. Even though she had prepared to see a bruised and bloody patient, she was not prepared to see her Tom so mangled.

She wanted to cry uncontrollably. She wanted to scream. She knew that at any time she could lose her best friend.

'_I can't leave him. I must take care of him. He made that promise to me and I abandoned him. This is my promise to him. I can't let him down. I won't let him down.'_

Sybil kissed his cheek to seal the promise.

"Oh my darling, Tom…Don't worry. I'm here now."

. . .

**Reviews are always welcome =D**


	2. Chapter 2

**You guys are being spoiled right now. Two chapters in two days?! I can promise you the next update won't be for a while, so savor these quick updates =D Again, like last chapter, if you find any mistakes, holla at 'yo qurl (that was weird) ANYWAYS, enjoy and happy reading!**

**I know that some of you mentioned that Sybil should tell Matron Jones about knowing Tom and telling Lord Grantham about Tom, so here it is! You guys beat me to the punch!**

Chapter Two

Sybil found herself knocking the Matron's office door for the second time that day. She had to tell her that she knew Tom. Sybil planned on telling Matron Jones when she came back to check on the bandages Sybil had put on, but she was too taken by the sight of Tom's chest on display. Now was the time.

"Come in."

Like before, the Matron was sitting at her desk chair with her nose buried in a patient's file.

"Matron?"

Keeping her attention to the file, Matron Jones did not look up. "Yes Crawley?"

"I think I may know the identity of my patient."

She put the file down on her desk and cocked her head slightly to the left and furrowed her brow. "You think you _may_ know? How?"

Sybil panicked. She couldn't reveal the true nature of their relationship. It would give her away. In the hospital, everyone was treated as equals. Rich and poor. A hospital could not deny care to a dying man even if he had no money. Everyone needed care. Social boundaries meant nothing here. Still, Sybil didn't want to be treated like a member of the aristocracy here. She was there to learn to help the sick and wounded, not as a publicity stunt. She wanted to keep her true identity a secret as long as possible. Sybil decided she would tell the Matron once Tom woke up. For now, she decided to tell a half truth.

"I live in Downton, a small town near Ripon, and I've seen him driving the Grantham's car. I believe he is their chauffeur."

"How sure are you Crawley"

Her heart raced faster. Surely Matron Jones would see right through her. She needed to back her story up.

"I've also spoken to him on several occasions at a political rally in Ripon. I didn't recognize him with all the blood on his face, but when I started bandaging his wounds, I realized that I had seen him before and spoken to him in Ripon."

"Do you know anything about this man?"

"His name is Tom Branson."

"Anything else?"

"He's a socialist. He's originally from Ireland and has no family in England. He only came to England to work for Lord and Lady Grantham. He started working for them in 1914." _'You'll always find him around Downton with his nose stuck in a newspaper. He's a supporter of women's rights and hates the class system. He loves history and politics, wants to become a politician and hates everything that I and my family represent. Did I forget to mention that he's in love with me and wants me to be with him? That too.'_ "That's about all I know about Mr. Branson."

"My, my, Crawley. You know a lot about this man." Matron Jones eyed Sybil suspiciously. "Do you know him personally?"

Sybil gulped. She knew she had revealed too much. "No. Not really. I only spoke to him in between the speaker's speeches. The last time I spoke to him was at the counting of the votes in 1914."

Matron Jones took a breath and took a moment to think.

"Good. I couldn't allow you to treat a patient you knew personally. Your feelings may compromise your ability to treat him and cloud your judgment." Sybil breathed a sigh of relief, but it wasn't as relieving as she had wished it would be.

"Very well then. Thank you Crawley. I'll call Lord Grantham and tell him his chauffeur is in the hospital. They're probably wondering where he is by now."

Sybil knew this moment was coming and was dreading it. "NO!"

Matron Jones was exasperated. "Now Crawley, I must tell the family that he works for. They must tell his family."

Sybil had to save this. There was no way that Matron Jones could call Downton and not figure out that Sybil Crawley was really _Lady_ Sybil Crawley. More half truths it is…

"I meant, no…I'll call them for you. I know the family. My family lives on their land and they're the ones paying for my tuition. I owe it to them."

"That's very kind of you Crawley and very generous of the Granthams. I shall leave you here while you call them. The phone is on the desk in the corner of the room."

Matron Jones got up from her desk and left Sybil alone in her office.

. . .

"Downton Abbey. Carson, the Butler, speaking."

"Oh Carson! Hello! This is Lady Sybil."

"Hello milady. Would you like to speak to his Lordship?"

"Actually Carson, I was hoping I could speak to you"

"Me, milady?

"Yes Carson. You see…It's Branson. He was in a car accident after he dropped me off at York. He's badly hurt and he's been admitted to the hospital in York."

"Good God! We were worried that something might have happened to Mr. Branson when he didn't come back to Downton quickly. I must inform his Lordship immediately."

"Carson wait!"

It was too late though. Carson dropped the mouthpiece and earpiece to tell Lord Grantham of the sad news. After five minutes of silence, there was crackling at the other end of the line and Lord Grantham's voice came through.

"Sybil?"

Sybil rubbed her forehead in frustration and tried to sound pleasant despite of the situation. "Hello Papa."

"Carson tells me that Branson was in a car accident. What happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine Papa. He was headed back to Downton when the accident happened. From reading the accident report from his history chart, it seems that a lorry drifted into his lane and there was a head on collision. He's badly hurt and the car is wrecked." Sybil could feel the tears coming, but she refused to cry.

"Poor chap…"

After a moment of silence, Sybil spoke up.

"Papa, I know this is an odd request, but can you disallow anyone from Downton to visit Branson?"

"Whatever for?"

"I don't want anyone at the hospital to know who I am. I don't want to be treated any differently."

Robert sighed and Sybil imagined her father pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sybil, you will always be a Lady."

Sybil wasn't one to back down. She was a fighter. If push came to shove, she would push back. "I'm not one here. As far as I'm concerned, Lady Sybil Crawley does not exist here, only Nurse Crawley."

More sighs came from the other end of the line and Sybil knew she had won this. "Fine Sybil. I'll disallow the servants and the family from visiting Branson."

"Thank you Papa. And there's one more thing."

"What's that."

Sybil had to tell her father that she was Branson's nurse. They would find out eventually. It would be better if they found out sooner rather than later. She prepared herself for the yell that would be coming from the earpiece.

"I'm his nurse."

It only took a second for the news to sink in. It was the longest second of her life. It was then followed by the loudest yell that an earpiece could deliver. "WHAT?! SYBIL I CANNOT ALLOW THIS! IT'S HIGHLY INAPPROPRIATE FOR A LADY TO TOUCH A SERVANT!"

Sybil thought of the garden party; of the warm summer day; of his touch on her shoulder; of the whisper in her ear; of the embrace they shared with Gwen; of their fingers interlaced with one another's; of stolen glances; of secret smiles… She smiled to herself. _'Oh Papa…all the things you don't know…'_

"Well you can't do anything about it. I have been assigned to treat him and I must."

"I forbid it."

"Would you deny Bates from getting the proper treatment if it would save his life?"

"Can't you switch patients?"

Sybil knew that switching patients was allowed, but she wasn't going to abandon Tom. She had made a promise and was determined to keep it.

"I'm sorry papa. Once we are assigned a patient, the only way we can change is if they are released from the hospital or die." Sybil knew that she had guilted her father into allowing her to treat Tom, but she needed to treat him. She made sure that she would have her fathers permission to treat Tom. "Do you want Branson to die Papa?"

"Of course not, but…"

"It's settled then. I will treat Branson."

The other end of the line was silent

"You should know that I don't like the sound of this Sybil."

More silence.

"I mean it Sybil. I don't like this. Not one bit."

Silence.

Robert sighed. "Tell the hospital to send all the bills to Downton Abbey. We will take care of his medical expenses."

Sybil was not expecting that. She nearly knocked the papers off Matron Jones's desk in excitement. "Oh thank you papa! That's so generous of you!"

"Hmm. I should think so."

. . .

The first week of nurses training wasn't bad. To be completely honest, it was wonderful. In lecture, she learned of the body systems and their functions. In training, she learned how to properly stitch a wound and administer medicine. She even got to stitch up one of the wounds on Tom's forearm! Sybil crossed her fingers and hoped that when the stitches came out, it wouldn't leave a nasty scar. Every day, Sybil would come in and check on Tom after dinner and spend hours tending to him. Sometimes she would fall asleep in the chair with Tom's arm as a pillow. She would always wake up the next morning and rush to her dorm room, knowing that spending the night in the patients wards were strictly prohibited. He would always be asleep when she popped around, but she changed his bandages (she was getting pretty good at it) and washed him. She would always blush when she pulled the sheets back, but it was her duty as a nurse to care for the sick, in every way. She had to get used to seeing naked men, but seeing Tom lying naked on a bed made unladylike thoughts inch their way into her brain. It was made even worse when she had to touch him while giving him his biweekly sponge bath. The first time Nurse Delpy instructed Sybil to wash Tom, Nurse Delpy asked her if she was coming down with a fever since her face was so hot.

"No Nurse Delpy. I'm fine…I've never held a…"

"Get used to it Nurse Crawley. You'll be doing this more often if you're to become a proper nurse. And let me just tell you, this is the best looking one I've seen in a longtime. You can tell it hasn't been used a lot. Now some of them, I wouldn't dream of touching them, even with gloves on. Some of them are absolutely filthy. You never know what kind of disease it on it. I can tell this one is new. Its firm and comes back to shape if you squeeze it. The older ones don't do that. They just kind of flop around and aren't good for much of anything."

Sybil was horrified. "Excuse me?"

"The sponge Nurse Crawley. Now get to washing him and don't be shy. You must wash everything."

. . .

By the end of the first week, Tom still didn't wake up. Nurse Delpy was instructed by Matron Jones to put feeding tubes down his throat so he wouldn't starve to death. It looked terrible, but Tom needed to eat somehow.

Right at 7:00 pm, Sybil went up to the second floor ward to tend to Tom again. He had been moved from the emergency ward to the second floor stable condition ward. She did not expect to see Matron Jones and Nurse Delpy standing in front of his curtain. They were talking quietly.

The Matron spoke quietly. "He's in a coma. I believe he's had a major brain injury. There is a possibility that he may never wake up."

"What should we tell Nurse Crawley?"

"Nothing. Her care for Mr. Branson has been beyond excellent."

"What do we do then?"

"Wait until the semester ends and if he still hasn't awoken, then contact the Granthams. I know it's wrong, but she's taking such good care of him. I'd hate for him to stop receiving treatment if there's still a chance that he could still wake up."

Sybil was stunned. Never wake up? Sybil turned her heels and headed straight for the bathroom. It was a shame. Dinner was so nice.

. . .

Days turned to weeks. Routines were set in stone and each day blended into the next. Christmas came and left. The New Year was approaching and Tom still didn't wake up. Sybil was determined not to lose hope. Still every night, except when she was on holiday break, she took care of Tom. For the first hour, Nurse Crawley took care of him. Feeding him, bandaging him, washing him, tending to his every need, medically speaking. The rest of the night, Sybil Crawley looked after him, making sure that nothing bad was going to come. She talked to him, telling him stories of her childhood. How she always ran into the lawns and gardens barefooted, at the dismay of the rest of her family. She read him the news and kept him up to date with the current events. She talked of the war, and how terrible she thought it was. She talked about her day and complained about the other nursing students. Sybil hardly ever slept in her dorm anymore. Her place was the chair next to his bed, with his arm as a pillow and his hand in hers. Some nights, after a tiring day, she would scooch Tom over just a little so she could lie down with him. It was comforting to have him next to her, but she felt sadness in the pit of her stomach knowing that he couldn't wake up in the middle of the night and put his arms around her. She felt herself grow closer to Tom, even though he was unresponsive. She talked about anything and everything, except for one subject. Since his admittance to the hospital, she couldn't bring herself to acknowledge the feelings that were starting to surface. Time was flying by and Sybil knew that every moment alone she had with him was not to be wasted.

Two weeks left. The clock was ticking and time wasn't slowing down for anyone. She felt that it was now or never.

Sybil walked through the curtain for her usual nightly visit. She gazed at Tom. Six weeks ago she was blushing at the prospect of looking at his chest, and now here she is, six weeks later, treating him like a proper nurse. He was getting better physically. His wounds had healed and the bruises had faded. The threat of illness and disease had passed. All that was left was for Tom to come back to her. She sat in her chair, placed her hand on his cheek, and took his hand in hers. She started every visit like this.

"Tom. Please wake up…"

No response.

"Come back to me…"

Silence.

"Tom…"

Tonight she would break the routine. Instead of getting up and starting to remove his bandages, she kept sitting. Sybil took a deep breathe in. She knew that this would be the hardest thing she would ever have to say. She gazed at his sleeping face and mustered all the courage in the world.

"Yes Tom. I love you. I'll run away with you."

Still nothing.

She buried her face in her hands as the sobbing started. Her stomach ached from the force of her crying, but the tears would not stop. Was it too late? Did she lose him forever? She mentally berated herself for not realizing her feelings sooner. She was in love with him, but she feared that it was too late for the both of them.

A scratchy Irish brogue came out of nowhere. It was only as loud as a whisper, but that voice hit her like a ton of bricks.

"Hey now. Don't cry."

. . .

**Review if you feel inclined to do so! =D**


	3. Chapter 3

**I've been on tumblr and all the Downton Abbey stuff (mostly the Tom/Sybil sexy times XP) have kept me from typing chapter three up. I've had the dialogue written for about four days but have been really lazy in actually typing up the chapter. This chapter was pretty difficult to write and there's probably a dent in my wall from me banging my head on it in frustration. I promise you the wait won't be too long for the next chapter!**

**In regards to the sponge misunderstanding, I'll try and sprinkle a few jokes here and there to lighten everything. **

**A great big thanks to my reviewers Bristol Fashion, MissPixieWay, and Syblime! An even bigger thanks to tic tac toe 03, , and gothamgirl28 for leaving reviews for chapters one and two. Hugs all around!**

**Again, as usual, if there are grammatical errors please tell me.**

**Chapter three commence! Happy reading everyone!**

Chapter Three

Sybil's head slowly rose from her hands. She couldn't bear it if her head was playing tricks on her. "Tom?"

The same voice answered back. "Hello"

She was stunned. She couldn't believe it. He was awake. He was really awake.

Sybil leaped from her chair and threw her arms around his shoulders and gave him the fiercest hug that she could. She held on tight, fearing that if she loosened her grip, Tom would dissolve into a million molecules. She buried her face into the crook of his neck and sobbed even harder.

"My god! Tom! You scared me!" Sybil's words were muffled from being buried into his neck but Tom still understood. She couldn't stop the sobs or the hiccups, but she still carried on. "They said you would never wake up."

With her face buried still and her eyes glassy, she didn't notice the hand that came around her to pull her closer in. Tom rubbed small circles in her back, hushed her, and told her it was okay.

She was finally in his arms. Everything in the world was right again.

There were locked like this for many moments. Sybil sobbing quietly while Tom soothed her. Sybil couldn't help but notice that Tom's skin was so soft against hers. She always noticed the softness of his skin when she curled up beside him at night, but this was much better. It was much more satisfying to know that he could hold her like this. Sybil's hiccups were becoming farther and farther apart and she could feel his heartbeat. It was fast, but his breathing was slow. She wondered if he could feel her heart beating. It was beating just as fast as his and as loud. She turned her head a little to watch the rise and fall of his chest. She breathed in, taking in his scent. He smelled of soap, but he didn't smell like him. Tom always smelled of newspapers, motor oil, and his own musky scent, but he never smelled bad. He just smelled like him. His stubble was scratching her forehead, but she didn't mind. She made a mental note to shave his face later. It had been a few minutes since she last hiccupped. Tom stopped rubbing her back Sybil could feel him look down at her, trying to see her face.

"Are you okay now?"

With a small laugh and the last of the tears escaping Sybil smiled and lifted her head up and their blue eyes met. "I should be asking you that."

He chuckled softly. Knowing the impropriety of the situation, Sybil lifted herself up, out of his arms and stood back up. Heat was creeping up from her neck. She should have felt embarrassed the first time she laid beside him all those weeks ago, but she didn't. Being with him was as natural as breathing. She knew she shouldn't feel so comfortable with Tom, since he was a man and, more importantly, one of her father's servants. Sybil wasn't blushing from laying beside with Tom. No, it wasn't that. Her blush came from the realization that she had to confront her feelings while he was awake. She quickly turned away from him, hiding her blush.

'_Now's not the time to be weak. Be strong Sybil. He needs someone to lean on and you're the only person who can help him.'_

Sybil shifted the weight on her feet and grabbed the bandages and gauze from the nurses cabinet. She straightened herself and became Nurse Crawley again. She turned back to him and caught him staring at her. Her heart melted but you would never know from her response. "I'm sorry for that. It was highly inappropriate of me." Tom looked away and nodded. The disappointment was all over his face. Sybil's heart sunk. She didn't want to come off as cold, especially after she had greeted with an embrace and tears of joy. She had to save this somehow. "How are you feeling?"

"Like fecking shite. Oh shite. I'm sorry…"

"No, it's fine…"

Silence engulfed them both. It wasn't like the silence from minutes before; that easy, comforting silence in each others arms. This was uncomfortable. The silence was suffocating her.

'_Oh god. This is terrible. What do I say next? Tom please say something. I can't…'_

It was as if someone had broken the seal and all the air came back in when Tom spoke again.

Pointing to the two tubes in his nose, he furrowed his brow. "What are these?"

Sybil finally found her voice when he asked about his feeding tubes. She found that it was much easier to make small talk rather than talk about her feelings. "Feeding tubes. Would you like me to remove them?"

"Could you. It's hard to breathe with these things down my nose."

"Of course. Now just relax. This is going to feel odd, but you must keep still."

She placed a hand on his forehead to keep it still and the other gripped the feeing tubes. She stroked his forehead right before she pulled, feeling his hair tickle her hand. She pulled the tubes slowly as Tom winced. The end of the tubes finally came out and she heard Tom breathe a sigh of relief.

She removed her hand from his forehead and put the feeding tubes on top of the nurse's cabinet. "Better?"

"Much. Thank you."

Sybil went to the wash basin and proceeded to wash her hands. She was drying her hands when she realized he hadn't eaten today. "I hope that wasn't too dreadful for you. Are you hungry? I imagine you are. I hope you like porridge because that's the only thing we could feed you through the feeing tubes."

"Something to eat would be lovely."

Sybil was moving about, making herself busy. She couldn't bring herself to look at him again, but she could feel his stare follow her around. It was comforting, yet unsettling at the same time. "Let me get you food from the kitchens." She headed for the curtain opening when she turned back to him. "Is there anything in particular that you would like?"

"No, anything's fine. Thank you."

She exited Tom's quarters for the kitchen when she thought of the other nurses. Tom was alone in this ward, but the ward across the hall was full of nurses and the other nursing students. She couldn't risk having Tom call out to her and call her Lady Sybil. It would destroy all the trust and respect she had earned from her peers these past weeks.

She practically ran back Tom and popped her head between the open curtains.

"Oh, Tom?"

"Yes?"

"Please call me Nurse Crawley while you're here. I'd hate for anyone to know that I'm really a lady. Some of the other nurses are suspicious of me because of my accent and I can't have you going around calling me milady around the other nursing students. It would give me away. I want to be treated like in equal here. You of all people should understand."

Tom's eyes widened slightly then went back to normal. "Of course I do Nurse Crawley. Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

. . .

Sybil couldn't stop smiling. Tom had come back to her. Yes, it was a bit awkward considering the way they had parted, but this was a step in the right direction. She feared that when Tom would wake you, he would never want to speak to her again. She couldn't blame him if he did. She treated him poorly when they parted. If he was still angry at her, she would give him his space. But from the way they had just interacted, Sybil was sure he had forgiven her. She hadn't said it with words, but her actions spoke for her. She cared for him and she hoped he got the message.

Sybil ran downstairs to the kitchens and met Nurse Delpy on the way down.

"Nurse Crawley, I didn't expect to see you here. You seem more cheery than when I last saw you."

"Mr. Branson woke up. I took his feeding tube out and he's been asking for food."

"Well that's no surprise from all the care you've given him. Go to sleep. You look worn out. I'll send up a tray and tend to him. Lord knows you've done enough. Matron Jones comes back tomorrow from leave, so I'll send her up to see Mr. Branson as soon as she is settled."

"Of course Nurse Delpy. Thank you."

Sybil wanted desperately to tend to Tom. Her promise to him still stood and she had every intention of keeping it. This was Tom's first night awake and she wanted to be with him. But she could not disobey her superior. She walked all the way across the campus to her dorm. She washed up, quickly changed out of her nurses uniform and into her nightdress and fell into bed. Sybil fell asleep, dreaming of the feel of his skin under her fingers, his warm breath on her forehead, the soft tuft of hair on his chest and the beating of their hearts in sync.

. . .

Sybil awoke the next morning and rushed to see Tom. She learned that he had fallen asleep when she had left him. Sybil went to check on him again after lecture but he was still asleep. She came back after lunch to see if he was awake, but Nurse Delpy told her he hadn't awoken yet. Sybil visited him before dinner, but the prognosis was the same.

"I don't know what to tell you Nurse Crawley. I think he still might be in a coma."

"But I spoke to him! I swear!"

"Whatever you say Nurse Crawley. Just be sure to change his bandages again and…"

A hoarse voice came from the bed and it made the two nurses at the foot of the bed stand to attention. "Hey! I am awake! I've just been tired."

Sybil shot Nurse Delpy an "I-told-you" look and she sighed in defeat.

"I guess you were right Nurse Crawley." Nurse Delpy turned to Tom and introduced herself then went right back to Sybil to give her orders for tonight. "Change his bandages, wash him, and change his sheets. Take his vitals too since he's awake and can respond back. Then head straight to bed. The matron will be coming soon to check on him."

Nurse Deply left immediately and Sybil was finally alone with Tom. Sybil reached for his chest to change his bandages, but she could see that he was about to have a panic attack as her hands got closer to his bare chest. She put her hands to her side.

He stared at her with wide eyes. "Isn't this a bit inappropriate Nurse Crawley?"

"How? I am your nurse aren't I? This is what nurses are supposed to do. Take care of their patient's every need. It is my job to feed you, wash you, change you, give you your medicine, and make sure you're okay."

"You…washed…me?" Tom was in complete shock and turning an alarming shade of red. "But you're also a lady! You can't…"

Sybil didn't want to have this conversation again. She heard it from her papa once, she didn't need to hear it from Tom. She cut him off in frustration. "Not here I'm not. Let me do my job and I promise you, you'll get better."

Tom tried to sneak in another word but Sybil wasn't having it. "If you're worried if anything's happened, I can assure you, I've been completely professional and respectful the entire time."

'_Well not completely professional…'_

Tom relaxed a little bit and Sybil took note of how flustered he got. It was nice seeing a different side of Tom. He's always so sure about himself and his ideals. To see him embarrassed was a treat for her. She reached for his chest again and this time he was calmer. She removed all his bandages and went to the table to get the new bandages ready. She hummed quietly to herself and thought of Tom.

'_He would probably be released the same time my course lets out, which gives us about a week and a half left of each others company. We'll go back to Downton, together.' _

She smiled at the thought of spending more time with Tom when his voice cut through her thoughts.

"You seem happier than yesterday."

Sybil kept her back turned to him as she prepped the gauze and bandages, her smile radiating off her face. "Really?"

"Much happier. Did something happen? Did you meet someone?"

She let out a small laugh. "No. Well, yes and no. I ran into someone I wasn't expecting to see for a long time. I've missed him terribly." She turned around looked in his eyes hoping that he had gotten the message. They locked eyes and stared at each other for a brief moment. She wanted to stop with all of this nonsense and tell him how she really felt, but she felt that it wasn't the right time. Feeling the blush that was creeping up her neck from being too forward, she turned back around to the table. "And you're awake and feeling better, so that makes me happy too."

"I wish the same could be said for my heart."

Sybil's smile faded. She had to ask. She knew what the answer would be, but a part of her needed to hear the pain that she had caused him. She needed to understand what she had done to him so she wouldn't be the one to cause it anymore. She was here to heal him. To do that, she needed to understand his pain. "What happened?"

"I asked a girl to marry me not too long ago, but she said no. I'm thinking of leaving because she refused me."

She turned back around to look into his eyes, forgetting about his bandages. He didn't turn to look up at her. "No! Don't do that!"

Tom fixed his gaze straight ahead. "Why not? She doesn't love me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes…No…I don't know. It doesn't seem worth the trouble anymore. She's caused me too much pain over the years, but I love her, or at least I think I do…"

"Ask her again."

Tom finally looked up at her. "What?"

"Love is always worth the risk."

"I don't know if I should. I don't want to get hurt again."

"She was scared and unsure of herself the first time you asked her. Ask her again."

"Should I? What if her answer is still no? What then?"

"I guarantee her answer will be different this time. She's realized something while you were away." Now was now or never. She couldn't falter this time. She had to get it right, for the sake of both of their hearts. "Tom, ask her again."

Something in Tom's eyes changed. He looked down for a moment and looked back up. He was staring at her, but he wasn't with her. He had a faraway look in his eyes like he was remembering something painful. It didn't take Sybil long to figure out that he was remembering his speech at the arch and her flattered response. She was absolutely disgusted with herself. She needed to make up for her mistake. She could do that here with one word. All he needed to do was ask her again.

He was tearing up and he took a deep wavering breathe in. This was it. He was going to ask.

And she was going to say yes this time.

"Syb…"

"Nurse Crawley!"

Tom and Sybil snapped out of their reverie as the booming voice of Matron Jones echoed throughout the ward. Matron Jones stood at the entrance of the curtain, arms folded.

Sybil straightened up and addressed her. "Matron Jones, I was just about to change his bandages."

"No need to do that Nurse Crawley. Since I'm here to check on Mr. Branson, I'll do it for you. Get to bed. You've done so much for him in these past few weeks."

Sybil and Tom said their goodnights, and she left. But Sybil couldn't leave the ward just yet. She stood at in the hallway listening to Matron Jones speak to Tom.

"Mr. Branson, your heart is beating a million miles a minute! Are you sure you're okay?"

Sybil felt her chest. Hers was a million miles a minute too.

. . .

The next night Sybil was ready to change his bandages again and they had easily slipped back into their roles as friends. They fell quite easily into conversation. It was as if the proposal at York never happened.

'_Maybe he knows that I'll accept him and he's just waiting for the right time to ask…'_

"Don't you find it odd? All these nurses with different accents here?"

Sybil was checking his cuts and scrapes to see if they were healing well. All of them, except for the large gash on his chest had been completely healed. "Well this is a training college Branson. Women from all over come here to be trained."

"Dangerous place to have a training college, don't you think?"

She looked up from examining his arm. "Dangerous? Here? This place certainly isn't dangerous. I can think of many more places on the continent that are more dangerous than here."

Tom's eyebrows went up. "So you aren't afraid?"

"Of course not! Why would I be?"

He gave a short laugh and ran his hand through his hair. "Jesus Nurse Crawley! I'm not ashamed to admit this, but you are much braver than me. I wouldn't dream of stepping outside with the RIC's attacks becoming more violent…"

Sybil's eyes narrowed. _'The RIC? But the RIC is only in…Oh no, oh please God no' _

She had to ask. She had to know. She had read cases in which this happened, but she never even gave it a thought when he woke up. They had fallen easily back into friendship that she didn't even consider it. "Branson, this may seem like an odd question, but where are we?"

"We're in a room."

'_Don't get cheeky on me Tom Branson.'_

"Of course we are. I mean, where? As in what town?"

"Dublin."

'_No this can't be happening.'_

"What's the date?"

"April 1913"

'_I don't want to lose him again.'_

"What's my name?"

"Excuse me?"

"Branson, do you know my name?"

"Why are you asking me these questions?"

"Just answer Branson!"

"Nurse Crawley of course!"

"Tom Branson! Stop playing this instant!"

Tom looked confused. "I'm not. That is your name."

He had caught her. Technically that was her name and she did ask him to refer to her as Nurse Crawley. There was hope. It was slim, but there was still a chance. If there was anyone who beat the odds, it was Tom. "What is my given name?"

"Your given name?"

Sybil's frustration couldn't be contained any longer. She needed to know if he knew her name. If Tom was playing with her, there would be hell to pay. She didn't enjoy this game that he was playing and she was going to let him know she didn't like it. Not one bit. "YES MY GIVEN NAME! JESUS CHRIST, TOM BRANSON! YOU CAN BE SO INCREDIBLY THICK SOMETIMES!"

Sybil's yell had echoed throughout the now empty ward. Tom was silent. She had pushed him too far. Sybil had insulted him and the guilt was fast approaching. He looked away from her and she could tell he was trying to remember a name. A name that represented his hate. A name that represented his love. A name that shattered his heart six weeks previous. A name that finally realized it loved him back after years and years of friendship.

The agony in waiting was unbearable. Sybil thought she would go mad from the wait. She stood next to his bed, waiting for his answer. She stared intently at his face. She didn't want to miss the moment he realized it was her. His Lady. His Sybil.

Sybil waited and waited. Silence consumed them. Tom couldn't look at her. She finally realized he'd beaten the odds too many times. The moment of his realization she was hoping for did not come. The odds finally caught up with him and now both Sybil and Tom would lose the ultimate bet.

He looked back at her with tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I don't know it."

Sybil's world came crashing down. She collapsed in her chair in total disbelief. She broke eye contact with the stranger lying in the bed beside her. So this is what it felt like: to have your heart crushed by the only person who would be able to make you truly happy.

No. This was worse.

The man who had just broken her heart was completely unaware that he held her heart or that he had shattered it. Ignorance must be bliss.

'_He has no idea who I am. He's forgotten me…'_

. . .

**Yes, I know. All of you are confused. HOW COULD HE FORGET HER WHEN HE ALMOST SAID HER NAME?! Take some advice from the lovely Allen Leech: (THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE A REALLY GOOD .GIF! WHY WON'T ff LET ME PUT LINKS IN!? If you want to see it, PM me. I swear its amazing.)**** It will all be explained next chapter since the next chapter will be in Branson's POV! **

**I live in the US and am not well versed in Irish history. If I made a mistake in confusing the Black and Tans with the RIC, please correct me. Remember that Tom thinks it's 1913. So (from what I read on wikipedia) the Black and Tans weren't in Ireland yet. Yes? No? Help me!**

**I hope ya'll liked the chapter! Holla at yo' qurl and leave a review! Reviews make my world turn.=D**


	4. Chapter 4

**Incredibly sorry that it took nearly five months to post this next chapter up. I can pull out every excuse in the book, but the truth is I didn't really want to continue this story after seeing 3x05. I practically abandoned the story but I didn't feel it was right to abandon a story so early in the plot.**

**I can't promise you that the updates will be regular until I finish my other stories, but I promise I won't start any multi-chaptered stories until I have Mercy all done.**

**This chapter was originally going to be one chapter but I had to break it up into two. I feel that this first half needed to be a chapter all on its own.**

**Just a word of warning, this chapter is confusing. It's supposed to be.**

**After five months, I present to you, chapter four.**

Chapter Four

_Falling, falling, falling._

_Tom Branson woke up in his bed in Dublin._

_Today was the day._

_He looked at the pressed suit hanging from the door. It wasn't the nicest suit in Dublin, but it was his best._

_He ran a hand though his unkempt hair and sighed. Was this it? Was this all life had to offer him? He craved for more, but he had to settle for what everyone told him was all he needed._

_He thought of her and sighed again. He had love for her, but he wasn't sure it was the kind of love he would give his entire life to. There was no fire in their relationship. It was easy, too easy. They hadn't argued once since meeting each other. People would tell him that was a good sign, but Tom didn't see it that way._

_He wanted passion. Someone to talk to, to debate with, to argue with. She was a lovely girl, but the spark between them was gone. _

_But he loved her and she loved him. _

_They would be married today._

_Tom heard his mother's booming voice from the bottom landing of the stairs._

"_Tommy! There's a fry up for you on the table! Get down here before it gets cold!"_

_Tom groaned. He rolled out of bed, eyes still heavy from sleep. He went to the door, eyes still closed, opened it and stepped though the frame._

_The sound of crunching gravel hit his ears. His eyes flew open and a lush green lawn came into his view. He turned around, expecting to see his bedroom door behind him. There was a set of two very large and very heavy unfamiliar looking set of dark mahogany doors behind him. Tom panicked. He banged on the door to see if anyone was home. No answer. He ran to a window to see if there was anyone home when he spotted a man in a dark green uniform peering into the window. Maybe he could help._

"_Sir? Sir?"_

_As Tom walked closer to the uniformed man, he could feel himself shrinking with every step that he took. As he walked closer he recognized the man staring and smiling into the window._

_It was him._

_Tom looked up at himself. Why was the green uniformed Tom he so much taller him? They looked to be the same age, 23, but he was a foot shorter._

_The uniformed Tom didn't acknowledge the smaller Tom's presence. He kept his gaze on whatever was inside. The smaller Tom peered in and saw the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life. Her ebony tresses were in a mass at the base of her neck. Her pale skin contrasted the dark of her hair. She was wearing blue harem pants. _

_Daring. _

_She had a proud smirk on her face and Tom couldn't help but smile at her._

_Tom didn't believe in love at first sight, but he was a believer now._

_He turned back to his twin but he disappeared. He turned back to the window to look at the woman again, but the room was now empty. She was gone._

_Tom sighed in disappointment._

"_What are you looking at?"_

_A small voice came from beside him. He looked beside him once again, where his twin previously stood, and there was a girl with wild curly hair and expressive bright blue eyes staring up at him. She wasn't wearing any shoes and her face, hands, and expensive looking dress were smeared in dirt. She stared at him intently, waiting for an answer._

"_There was a pretty lass in there."_

_Tom furrowed his eyebrows. There was something odd about the sound of his voice and the way he spoke, but he couldn't put a finger on it. _

_She laughed._

"_That was probably Mary. All the boys think she's pretty. She doesn't like to go outside and play though. She says it's not lady like. Want to play with me? I'm going to the gardens to pick some flowers. Pick flowers with me!"_

_The girl grinned and tugged on his hand._

"_It'll be fun!"_

_Tom sighed at the little girl's request. He didn't have time to play. He needed to get back to Dublin._

"_I'm sorry little girl. I can't. I have to get married today."_

_A look of confusion swept though the girl's small features._

"_Married? But you only look like you're Mary's age…OH! Do you mean play married? Okay then! Let's get married!" _

_The girl grabbed his hand in hers and held it. She swung it back and forth as she continued._

"_I think we're a little to young to get married, but Mary says that she's going to be married to Patrick soon, so I don't think we're too young. Do you think we're too young darling? Can I call you darling? I hear Mama say that to Papa all the time. I think that's what married people do. Mary tells me they do other things too, like have babies, but I think we're too young to have babies. Don't you think so darling?"_

_Tom was about to respond the girl when he looked down at his hands. They were smaller than usual. He looked in the window and saw his reflection. _

_He was 12. _

_He reached for his head and felt the cap on top. He looked down at his small feet and saw his best Sunday shoes on. He felt the itchiness of the his wool trousers and the ill-fitting jacket that hung too loosely on his shoulders._

_Tommy couldn't believe it. He was 12 again._

_She tugged on he hand to follow, but Tommy couldn't move from the shock of finding out he was 12 again. She let go of his hand and hopped away._

"_Fine! I'll go pick flowers by myself. See you at dinner, darling!"_

_Tommy needed answers and the only person he could trust here was the little girl. He followed her as she rounded the corner of the house. He ran after her so he wouldn't lose sight of her and he saw her sprinting towards a large willow tree. He saw that she plopped herself down on the bench beside it and buried her face in her hands. Tom approached her and he felt himself grow taller. His legs and arms lengthened and he felt a bit awkward. _

"_Jaysus. I feel like I'm 17 again.'_

_He finally got to her and she was wearing different clothes. The dress she had was longer and the wild curls he remembered was tamed with a clip that left half her hair tied and the other half down. _

_She was sobbing_

_He immediately sat beside her and gathered her up in his arms. She threw her arms around him. She sobbed in his chest while she cried into the lapels of the chauffer uniform he wore for his new job in Dublin._

"_Oh my darling, Larry Grey is a horrible boy. Mama and Papa are trying to set me up with him, but he's terrible…He says that the only thing that women are good at doing is sitting at home, looking pretty and producing heirs. I wish women could do anything they wanted. Larry says that women can't do anything because they're beneath men. I hate him. I'll never marry him."_

_He looked down at her to brush away her tears when she dissolved in his arms. _

_Tom sat dumbfounded on the bench and took a moment to examine where he was. He looked at the lawns before him, green and lush. He looked behind him and saw the massive castle that stood before him._

_It took him a minute to realize what this was and who the girl he had been talking to was._

_She was one of them._

_But the more he thought about it, she wasn't one of them. A girl barefooted outside on the lawns picking flowers covered in dirt. A girl crying because her views didn't match the views of her parents or her class. She wasn't your typical snooty aristocratic girl. She was different. _

_She was extraordinary._

_Tom got up and felt himself grow a little taller and he could feel his muscles growing larger underneath his clothes. He looked down at himself and found that he was wearing his best suit. He walked around to the front of the house again and he saw her coming out of the front door. She was older now, much older. But he could tell that it was her from her walk. She walked with confidence and more importantly, a purpose. He looked at her again. Her hair was gathered at the base of her neck and she wore a simple blouse and skirt. He could tell that she had blossomed into a beautiful woman, inside and out. She gave a small but curt and polite smile to the butler. It seemed that her family finally tamed her. Once the butler closed the door, she sprinted off._

_He was curious. Tom followed her again._

_She ran to the garage. What's in the garage that she would want?_

_He saw his twin emerge out the garage in a set of tan coveralls. The girl approached his twin, handing him a newspaper. He observed as they talked and laughed. They were so comfortable with each other. He turned around to give them privacy when he blinked._

_She was suddenly by his side. He was wearing his twin's clothes while she was wearing a flowing white dress with a hat to match. Tom was convinced she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Nothing could ruin this moment for him. He felt the sun's warm rays on his shoulders. They turned to each other and she had the most dreamy look on her face. They glanced down at their hands. They were clasped tightly. He could feel the softness of her hand on his though her glove. She glanced back up to her face._

_It's her._

_It's the girl from the window._

_How could I have been so stupid?_

_It was her all along._

_The bright colored setting started to dissolve into blues and grays. It was growing colder and he could see her standing in front of him, wearing a dark blue coat and skirt to match instead of the white he previously saw her in. She refused to look at him._

_Echoes of "terribly flattered…" were coming from every direction. _

_When she finally did look up to meet his eyes, he felt his heart shatter into a million pieces and a bright white light filled his eyes. She was fading into the light and he began to fall._

_He heard her voice…_

"_Tom…"_

_He yelled as loud as he could. "Darling! I'm here!"_

_The sound of her voice was even fainter this time._

"_Come back to me…"_

_Tom tried to grab anything to hold on to, but only empty white surrounded him. "I'm trying my love, I'm trying!"_

"_Tom…"_

_Tom begged as he felt the tears coming fast. "Don't leave me, love! Don't leave me!"_

_He could hear her voice, but it was only a whisper now._

"…_Tom…I love you…"_

_The tears flooded Tom's face, trying to hold on to the memory of her face, the sound of her voice, anything so he wouldn't forget. He screamed at the top of his lungs._

"_I LOVE YOU SYBIL!"_

_He hit the ground._

Black.

All Tom saw was black.

He could feel a weight on his chest and he could hear the sobs of a woman crying nearby. He tired to remember, but she was gone. It was all a cruel illusion. He thought for a minute if he kept his eyes closed, that she would come back to him, but it was useless. He tried to remember the sound of her voice or her face, but nothing came to mind. He remembered screaming out a name but he wasn't sure what he said.

It was all lost.

The love of his life was gone and he would probably never see her again. Hell, he couldn't even remember her.

But he remembered how it felt, how wonderful it felt to be in love.

Then her remembered the pain. He blocked the pain out and futilely held on to the memory of love. It was quickly slipping away…

He felt himself exhale and all the memories of that beautiful woman in the blue pants were gone.

He opened his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Since I feel like I confused the hell out of you guys yesterday with chapter four, I feel that I owe you guys an explanatory chapter ASAP. **

**I have never had amnesia, nor have I ever been in a coma, so I can't really say that coming to consciousness feels like what Tom experienced. **

**As usual, reply time! (I'll keep it brief!)**

**dustedoffanoldie: I'm excited to write it, but we'll see how long it takes to finish!**

**shana-rose: YAY FOR SYBIL/TOM interaction! Even if he doesn't remember…He was conscious when he said her name. Don't worry though! It's gonna be explained in this chapter. As for the other thing you messaged me about, that won't be addressed until a later chapter when it switches back to Sybil's POV.**

**This chapter is also a bit confusing too because we obviously haven't been properly introduced to someone.**

**Two chapters in two days! Rock the AU Weekend!**

**I reject Julian Fellowes reality and substitute my own.**

Chapter Five

It was the crying that made him open his eyes.

Tom blinked.

The room was bright and his eyes wouldn't focus.

He blinked several more times until the haze of the light subsided. He saw a woman sitting next to his bed with her face in her hands. He surveyed the small room. Curtains everywhere. The smell of iodine filled his nostrils. He saw medical supplies on the table and the various bottles of medicine. Was he in a hospital?

He panicked.

'What happened? Why am I here? Did I get into an accident? Did I do something wrong? Think Tom. What did you do? Is she here?'

Tom thought of her.

Edna Braithwaite.

He remembered himself imagining the day of his wedding with her. He thought of all the hope he had for them. He thought of his proposal and her refusal. He remembered what she had said, what she had admitted to him, what she had done.

Tom had to be honest with himself. He had his reservations about marrying her, but he was willing to marry her, even if he had doubts about them as a couple. But her confession to him came as a shock. She had cut him deep and it stung. Everything they were was a lie. He resented her. He was so broken inside while she still remained whole. She acted as if she was as hurt as him, but deep down, Tom knew she wasn't.

It wasn't fair.

Tom was pulled out of his memory of Edna by the sound of the woman's crying. He silently examined her.

'_Young. Probably my age or a bit younger. Nurse? She has the cap and armband, but her uniform is unlike any I've ever seen in Dublin. Maybe this is a new hospital. Why is she crying? Does she think I'm dead? Why would she be crying about me though? She doesn't know me and I don't know her.'_

Tom decided to do the right thing and tried to comfort her so there wasn't an awkward situation.

"Hey now. Don't cry."

His voice was unnaturally scratchy. He noticed that his throat was dry and tube were coming out of his nose. But none of that mattered when she looked up at him.

She stole his breath away.

Tom didn't believe in love at first sight, but he was a believer now.

Dazzling blue eyes.

She was stunning.

"Tom?"

Tom was in shock. She knew his name!

'_Well of course she knows your name. You're her patient.'_

He croaked out a "Hello" as best he could so he wouldn't sound like a complete dolt.

Unexpectedly, she threw her arms around him and cried even harder.

The young nurse buried her face in his shoulder. He couldn't quite make out what she was saying though the sobs, but she was grateful that he was awake. He had no idea what happened to him, but he was grateful he was awake too. Or if this was really a dream, he never wanted to wake up.

"Shh…It's going to be okay…I'm here…"

He rubbed her back until the sobs and hiccups stopped. The gentle insistent pressure of her body pressed to his was heavenly. Her body fit perfectly to his. Tom could feel that her face and cheeks were flushed. He felt the gentle heat on his shoulder and he blushed as well.

He looked down at her and boldly thought of brushing a tuft of hair that had fallen out of her cap out of her face. God, she is beautiful. He stopped himself, thinking the action was too bold. He spoke instead.

"Are you okay now?"

She chuckled softly to herself and she stared him straight in the eyes.

"I should be asking you that."

Tom laughed. She was right.

She turned away quickly and went to the medicine cabinet. The nurse pulled out gauze and other items from the shelf. He watched her walk all over the room. She had such poise and grace. At the same time, her walk was determined and purposeful. Who is she?

'_I should be asking you that…'_

The words rung in his ears again, but it wasn't because of what she said.

It was how she said it.

She had an English accent.

And a posh one at that.

'_What the hell is an English woman doing working in Dublin? Is she trying to get herself killed?'_

Tom was about to open his mouth to comment on her accent, but the nurse turned around. She had a completely different demeanor than before. She stood up straighter and there was an air of confidence about her. Like a moth to a flame, Tom was so completely drawn to her. He knew if he got too close, she would harm him. Maybe not her per say, but the English always attracted trouble on the streets of Dublin.

"I'm sorry for that. It was highly inappropriate of me."

Tom's heart sank. Her voice became cold towards him. He must have done something wrong to anger the nurse. He probably crossed the line when he rubbed her back to soothe her. Angering her was the last thing he wanted to do.

"How are you feeling?"

Tom, still discouraged, couldn't meet her gaze. He had disappointed her somehow within the last brief moments and the anger at himself trickled out.

"Like fecking shite…"

'_Oh no.'_

"…Oh shite…"

'_Good job Tom. You gave her another reason to hate you. What did mam always say about swearing in front of young women?'_

"…I'm sorry."

She was quiet again. "No, it's fine."

Tom berated himself for his behavior in front of her. He was out of line.

'_Great Tom. You absolute genius. Look what you've done. Why do you have the gift of making nice situations terribly awkward?'_

He was about to run his hand though his hair when his hand brushed on the tubes in his nose. She briefly explained that they were feeding tubes and that she could take them out if he wished. She reached for his forehead to steady his head to pull them out. Her hand was soft. Softer and much more delicate than Edna's hands. He winced at the odd feeling of having tubes taken out from your nose. Once out, Tom could feel his hunger. His stomach was empty and craving food. The nurse offered to get him whatever was in the kitchens and he thanked her. She left him alone and it gave Tom some time to think.

She was incredibly polite and sweet. She was incredibly attentive and thoughtful.

Why would she be doing this for him? As far as Tom knew, he had never met an English girl in his life. Why is she being so nice to him?

She popped her head though the curtains which startled Tom out of his thoughts.

"Oh Tom?"

"Yes?"

"Please call me Nurse Crawley while you're here. I'd hate for anyone to know that I'm really a lady. Some of the other nurses are suspicious of me because of my accent and I can't have you going around calling me milady around the other nursing students. It would give me away. I want to be treated like in equal here. You of all people should understand."

She was a lady.

Wrong tense.

Nurse Crawley is a lady.

'_What the hell is a lady doing in Dublin working as a nurse? She hasn't told anyone either. I won't give her away. She'll be in immense danger. I have to protect her.'_

"Of course I do Nurse Crawley. Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

With that, she left Tom to wallow in his thoughts.

Tom felt like he was missing something. Something terribly important. Something about Nurse Crawley. She wasn't acting strange for a person, but she wasn't acting normal for a nurse.

Everything she did indicated that she had known him for a long time. It was easy to tell because she was so comfortable speaking to him in such an informal manner. But something else bothered him as well.

'_You of all people should understand…'_

What did she mean I should understand? Do I know her?

She seemed so familiar, yet she was a complete stranger to him.

His mind was running in circles when sleep beckoned him once again. Before it overtook him, Tom heard two words ringing in his ears before the darkness enveloped him.

'…_terribly flattered…'_

. . .

Tom woke up to the found of Nurse Crawley and another nurse talking about him. He made his presence known and the older nurse left, leaving Tom and Nurse Crawley alone once again. They fell into an easy conversation, but when she admitted to bathing him, Tom was more than shocked. To be honest, he was more embarrassed. She had seen all of him and she had touched every part of him and he didn't remember.

He wondered what she thought of him, if she thought he was much too bulky to be attractive. His heart sunk. That's what she probably thought. From what he saw driving aristocrats around, Tom noticed that the ladies of the aristocracy liked their men tall, lean, and clean-cut. Tom was none of those things.

'_Not like she would give you the time of day anyway. She's a lady and you're just a chauffeur. It could never happen.'_

Tom's heart sunk even lower.

A bit bitter and resentful, Tom noted the change in her demeanor the day previous.

"You seem happier than yesterday."

She was at the cabinet, getting the dressings for his wounds ready. She didn't turn back to look at him.

"Really?"

Her voice was so full of joy. He was so bitter at his own situation. He tried to keep his voice as light as possible, trying not to let his bitterness show.

"Much happier."

He had to know if she had a beau. She probably did. A woman as pretty and as kind as her always did.

"Did something happen?" Tom gulped. If there was a chance, even a small chance, he would take it. Even if his effort would be in vain, at least he knew that he tried. "Did you meet someone?"

He heard her angelic laugh and he held his breath, "No. Well, yes and no. I ran into someone I wasn't expecting to see for a long time. I've missed him terribly."

She turned to look at him and Tom couldn't feel any worse. She was taken. Of course she would be. Nurse Crawley turned back around to finish the bandages.

"And you're awake and feeling better, so that makes me happy too."

Tom couldn't stop the bitter words from escaping his lips.

"I wish the same could be said for my heart."

First Edna, now Nurse Crawley. Was he always doomed to have terrible luck with women?

He could hear her whisper. "What happened?"

Tom didn't want to unburden himself onto the nice nurse, but she asked. He didn't want to lie or evade the question. He needed to face the truth and move on from her. He needed to leave Ireland behind and start a new life for himself somewhere else. Somewhere far away from Edna and all the memories of her.

"I asked a girl to marry me not too long ago, but she said no. I'm thinking of leaving because she refused me."

Nurse Crawley whirled around. A look of horror was plastered on her face.

"No! Don't do that!"

"Why not? She doesn't love me."

"Are you sure?"

Tom thought about it. Did Edna really love him and did he really love her?

"Yes…No…I don't know. It doesn't seem worth the trouble anymore. She's caused me too much pain over the years, but I love her, or at least I think I do…"

"Ask her again."

Tom was taken aback. Did he really hear what she just said?

"What?"

"Love is always worth the risk."

Not with Edna. Tom may have risked his heart on Edna, but he was sure he would never risk it again unless he was completely sure. He wasn't going to give his heart away to anyone.

"I don't know if I should. I don't want to get hurt again."

"She was scared and unsure of herself the first time you asked her. Ask her again."

Tom started to feel differently. Something was changing. He wasn't sure what they were talking about anymore. Having this conversation with Nurse Crawley was odd yet completely necessary. He didn't know where it was going, nor did he fully understand what she was saying, but he felt that clarity was at the end of this road. He needed answers. Why would she be talking to him this way?

"Should I? What if her answer is still no? What then?"

She looked him straight in his eyes. Blue. Stunning blue. It was a shade of blue that was so familiar. He was on the precipice of something. Something huge.

"I guarantee her answer will be different this time. She's realized something while you were away."

Tom felt weightless. His head was going somewhere else. He heard Nurse Crawley's last sentence.

"Tom, ask her again."

Tom was whisked away.

He wasn't laying in the hospital bed anymore. He was standing in front of a door. He reached the handle, but it wouldn't turn. Tom felt the weight of something small and heavy in his pocket. He reached in.

A key.

Tom took the key out and put it in the lock, hoping it would open the door. Slowly, he turned the lock. A tiny click sounded and he opened the door.

He fell back. A bright white light blinded him when he saw the silhouette of a woman walking towards him. As the figure came closer and closer, he could faintly see what she was wearing. Blue harem pants. She stopped in the doorway, never crossing the arch.

It's her.

He squinted to see her face so he could remember it this time, but it was shrouded in her shadow. He stood up to walk towards her. With every step that he took, he felt the same love from before. As he got closer to his mystery woman, he felt a stab of pain in his heart. The more steps he took, the stronger the pain got.

He remembered this pain.

There was only one person who made him feel this way…

No, not Edna.

The woman at the door.

He knew her.

Her loved her.

Right as she was about to step out of the light so he could see her face, he could feel himself saying something. His lips moved on their own and he knew whatever he was going to say next was going to explain everything.

The key.

"Syb…"

He was jolted back to reality by the sound of an unfamiliar voice calling Nurse Crawley's name.

He immediately forgot what he was about to say.

. . .

She visited him the next night to change his bandages. He welcomed her in. The French nurse was a nice lady but she put the bandages on too tight and she was a bit rough handling him. Nurse Crawley was always gentle with him and they spoke like friends. Most of the time he found himself thinking about her and he would remind himself that she was a lady and too far above him.

The conversation was nice and light until he mentioned the RIC.

There was a definite switch.

He could tell.

Nurse Crawley didn't call him Tom anymore.

"Branson, this may seem like an odd question, but where are we?"

Tom grinned. He was playing with her. Two could play this game. "We're in a room."

She furrowed her eyebrows and gave him a stern look

"Of course we are. I mean, where? As in what town?"

'_How can she not know where we are?'_

"Dublin."

A worried look crossed her face.

"What's the date?"

Tom had to think about this one. He must not have been in the hospital for long. He's probably been in the hospital for, at most, a week.

"April 1913"

Tom watched her as she started to pace the room. She rubbed her temples and he could see that her eyes were starting to shine with tears. What's going on?

"What's my name?"

"Excuse me?"

"Branson, do you know my name?"

Tom thought hard. Nurse Crawley was the only name she had given him. He was as confused as she was.

"Why are you asking me these questions?"

"Just answer Branson!"

This wasn't a game anymore. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.

"Nurse Crawley of course!"

"Tom Branson! Stop playing this instant!"

He wasn't. He was dead serious. Fat tears were forming in the corner of her eyes and they were threatening to fall. He wasn't going to hold back. Whatever questions she had, he would answer them straight away.

"I'm not. That is your name."

"What is my given name?"

"Your given name?"

Tom could tell she was furious at him, but he didn't know why. He was answering her questions wanting to get answers as well. He saw that her anger was boiling over and he was going to have the biggest yelling of his life.

"YES MY GIVEN NAME! JESUS CHRIST, TOM BRANSON! YOU CAN BE SO INCREDIBLY THICK SOMETIMES!"

Tom felt that he didn't deserve to be screamed at, especially by Nurse Crawley. They had formed a quick friendship and now here she was screaming at him. He felt a tear fall on his face.

"I'm sorry. I don't know it."

She broke down. She collapsed in the chair as the sobs rocked her small body. He watched as she got up from the chair, her eyes red and swollen from crying, and left the curtained room.

Tom started to put the pieces together. The familiarity of their immediate friendship. The casualness of their conversations. It all came down to one thing,

'_She knows me. She knows me well. Who is she and why don't I know her?'_

. . .

**Surprise! Edna shows up! When I first wrote Mercy, I didn't have Edna in mind (she didn't exist then) but she conveniently showed . This isn't a joke. Tom really can't remember Sybil. =(**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter of Mercy. I've decided that I'm going to go hard and finish this fic. It's been sitting on the FF shelf for too long and I feel like I need to finish it before I start new fics. To be honest, I am feeling a bit distraught continuing Mercy. I feel like the wait for updates has gotten SO long that's it put people off from reading it. I don't know that if that's true or not, but that's how I'm feeling right now. **

**I know I said that I was going to update yesterday, but life got in the way and I didn't finish editing yesterday. Sorry!**

**Without further ado, the next chapter of Mercy!**

Chapter Six

His forest green uniform hung loosely on his shoulders. If it weren't for his braces, his pants would have sagged low on his hips. The chauffeur's uniform that he was dressed in was new to him. He was cleared to be released the day before but the hospital kept him an extra night so that arrangements would be made for him to return to Downton, wherever Downton was, with proper supervision. The coachman had arrived earlier that morning with a fresh set of clothes. After Tom had bathed and shaved, he looked at them. A chauffeur's uniform. Jacket, trousers, boots, gloves and a cap. All unfamiliar.

Once dressed, he looked at his reflection in the mirror, hoping this would trigger some sort of memory. He stood there waiting for something, anything, to come to his mind. Nothing. He groaned in frustration.

He was in another man's clothes, living his life, eating his food, breathing his air. Tom was his own imposter and he hated every second of it.

Tom shook his head and headed out to the awaiting coach. He took his seat next to the coachman and scratched his neck.

'_It's so itchy_,' he thought.

Nurse Delpy followed him out, waiting to say goodbye.

"Take care Mr. Branson. I hope you find what you're looking for."

Tom took the nurse's work worn hands in his and shook them.

"Thank you Nurse Delpy. And if you ever see Nurse Crawley, will you thank her for me?"

"I will. Good luck and may God have mercy on you."

The coachman clucked his tongue and crack of the reins on the horse's back split the air. The horse and coach moved away from the York hospital and back to his most recent place of employment, Downton Abbey.

Tom leaned back and shut his eyes. The constant click of hooves and bounce of the cart lulled him back to his most recent memories.

Nurse Crawley.

She was still a complete mystery to him. Her course ended week ago and she left without a goodbye. For some reason, Tom felt unbearably sad. They had a connection. He instantly felt it the first time he saw her crying in his room. He knew it was there. He was drawn to her. Not only was she beautiful, she was intelligent and passionate. Tom never wanted her to leave. Her presence comforted his soul and his mind was at peace.

The last time they had a proper conversation was when he admitted that he did not remember her name. She had distanced herself from him for the duration of her training. She did not engage in conversation. Most telling of all, she did not smile anymore. When Nurse Crawley came in, her face was like stone. Any attempts to break her professional façade by him was immediately shut down by a curt, "Please Mr. Branson, let me do my job."

It was two weeks ago that her superior, Nurse Delpy came in one morning instead of Nurse Crawley. She didn't need to say anything. He knew she was gone. He cried all through the night not fully knowing or understanding why.

During his stay in the hospital, Tom found out that he was suffering from amnesia, a condition which usually followed trauma to the head. The matron of the hospital told him he had lost his memory. When he asked if he would ever get them back, she changed the subject and shifted the conversation. She asked him a series of questions that would try and help him trigger a memory.

Tom learned that he was currently in England, not Ireland as he previously thought. He also learned that it was not April 1913. It was January 1917. Tom Branson was in a different place and time, yet he didn't feel like he was. Five years of his life had been erased from his memory. He didn't learn much about his new life other than he was a chauffeur at Downton Abbey for a Lord and Lady Grantham and their daughters.

He thought that Nurse Crawley would be able to help him remember since she knew him during his period of darkness. He had bluntly asked about his life at Downton and their relationship when she came in later that night to change his bandages.

She started to cry and left the room.

He never asked her about it again.

. . .

_Blue_

_It was like he was back in Dublin, standing at the docks. _

_The Irish sea and sky in a delicate contrast of blues, deep as the sea and light as the sky. Expansive, free and flowing, never-ending. _

_He saw that through the window when he saw her. _

_The blues whirled around her. Dark curls at the base of her neck. Her face, turned away from him, covered in a shadow. He didn't need to see her face to know that she was a true beauty, inside and out. _

'_Tom, it's her.'_

_He knocked on the window._

"_I know you."_

"Mr. Branson? Mr. Branson?"

Tom was pulled out of his nap by the light taps to his shoulder by the coachman.

She was forgotten the instant sunshine filled his eyes.

. . .

In his little cottage, Tom held the check in his hand. Two months wages and a letter of recommendation, though the butler was reluctant to write it due to a past indiscretion involving the youngest daughter and a political rally. The housekeeper wrote it instead. Unconventional, yes, but it would still get him a decent job in Dublin.

He had to hand in his resignation. Not only was he unfit to be a chauffeur because he didn't know the roads anymore, he didn't know anything anymore. He needed to find himself and he knew that Downton didn't hold any answers.

Tom stripped himself of the uniform and dressed himself in his best suit, the same suit he bought to come to England in. It was worn and old now, but it felt familiar. He pulled out a beaten leather suitcase from underneath the bed and packed whatever clothes were in the drawers. He went to his desk to pull out the few books he had brought from Dublin and his journals. He found the books easily enough, but his journals were nowhere to be found. Tom had kept a journal all his life, detailing his thoughts on whatever his mind was on that day.

'_Maybe new Tom doesn't keep a journal,' _he thought as he placed a book he did not recognize into his suitcase.

The two knocks at the door alerted Tom. He walked across the room and opened it. It was the housekeeper, Mrs. Hughes. Her hands were folded and clasped in front of her. A polite, but worried, smile was on her face.

"How are you getting on Mr. Branson?"

He returned to the side of his bed, folding his clothes to fit into the suitcase, not paying much attention to Mrs. Hughes's presence.

"Fine Mrs. Hughes. I'm finishing up packing and then I think I can call, Pitt, no Pratt, to bring the car around."

She stepped into the little cottage and looked at the uniform lying neatly folded on the bed. She stared at it with nostalgia and smiled.

"I once told a lad to be careful, that he might end up with no job and a broken heart. I should have told that to her as well, but it's not my place to do so."

Tom shook out a pair of trousers and folded them, never once looking up to notice the look of sadness on her face.

"They sound like stubborn people."

"Not stubborn. Foolishly in love."

More moments passed before Tom's repetitive trance broke and he could finally meet Mrs. Hughes's gaze.

"Tell me how you get on."

"I will."

. . .

"Stop the car!"

Pratt pulled hard on the handbrake and both Tom and Pratt were pushed forward by their momentum. Tom hopped out and ran to the entrance to the Downton Hospital. She was taking deep breaths of the chippy winter air, holding her nurses cap in one hand and wiping the sweat off her brow with the other. It was her.

"Nurse Crawley! I don't believe it!"

Her head snapped up, eyes wide at the unexpected intrusion during her break in her nursing shift. Tom made his way to her with a grin plastered on his face. What were the odds of this happening on his last day on English soil?

"What are you doing here?"

"My family lives in the area."

Tom panicked. With the information he learned from the butler today about him and the youngest daughter, his head was spinning.

'_Nurse Crawley is not just a nurse. She's a lady. She's a lady who lives nearby. She's a lady who's young and lives nearby. She could live at Downton Abbey. She could be one of Lord and Lady Grantham's daughters. She knows me. I assume we are friends. Well, we were friends before I lost my memory. A lady befriending the family chauffeur? No. That wouldn't happen, would it? That butler mentioned that I did something with the youngest daughter. Something bad? No. Not bad enough to get me fired, but I did something. I don't know what or with who. Is this her? Is she the one? Is she Lord Grantham's youngest daughter? What if she is? What do I do? I think, no I know I feel something for her even though I know I shouldn't.'_

Tom started delicately. His words came out slowly and deliberately, making sure that every word he chose was the right one.

"I remember you told me you're a lady back in York. You're not one of Lord Grantham's daughters are you?"

Nurse Crawley smiled and laughed. Tom took in how radiant she looked and tried to capture every image of her in his mind. This may be the last time he sees her and he wants to remember her the way he knows she can be.

"No. I'm the daughter of Lord Merton. We live several towns away."

A wave of relief coursed through his veins, followed by a dull painful ache in his chest.

"Why are you working here then?"

"This is the only hospital that takes me seriously as a nurse."

"Ahh. Well you're a wonderful nurse. I'm living proof!"

A lull fell, leaving the pair standing outside the hospital, knowing that these few moments were going to be their last.

"Are you going back to Ireland?"

"Aye. There's nothing for me here."

She bit her lip as he saw the familiar tears welling up in her eyes. She nodded her head in agreement and covered her lips with a hand.

"Mmm."

Tom took her hands from her mouth and her hip and held them in his. It was highly inappropriate, yes, but who here knew that she was a lady? She lived miles away and here at Downton, she was a nurse. His nurse.

"Nurse Crawley, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for saving my life. I didn't say it in the hospital because you left so soon, but I can say it now. Tha-"

Before Tom could finish, a voice from inside the hospital called her name.

"Nurse Crawley? Nurse Crawley!"

She slipped her hands out of his, ran through the archway, and turned back around. Her eyes never met his while his eyes were begging her to.

"I'm sorry Mr. Branson. I have to go. I'm glad you're up and about. Please keep in touch."

She disappeared through the door. The skirt of her grey uniform was the last thing he ever saw of his beloved Nurse Crawley.

It was only on the boat on his way back to Dublin that he realized she never gave him her address.


	7. Chapter 7

**A HUGE thank you to everyone who reviewed! **

**Can I hear a WOO HOO for another chapter? I'm banging these out pretty quick so I can get a good chunk finished before summer school starts up again.**

**And even bigger WOO HOO to everyone nominated for a Highclere Award! Some of my favorite authors/friends were nominated so when voting begins, go and VOTE!**

**This chapter should clear up some questions that some of you had regarding Sybil's deception. **

**Without further ado!**

Chapter Seven

She cried every night she found out he couldn't remember her. Their entire friendship was all gone in an instant. All their conversations about the news and politics, musings on life, and sharing stories from their childhood were lost. Memories from the garden party before the war, York, and any feelings he had kept hidden from her disappeared as well. His mind was wiped clean of any trace of her while he was the only thing on her mind.

It was most unbearable when she was near him. She couldn't look at him without the memories come flooding back, knowing that he didn't share them. Sybil hated treating him now because it meant spending time with him. She loved him with all her heart, but she couldn't do it. Not anymore. Her heart was too exposed when he was around. She feared she would accidentally say something then have to awkwardly take it back because he didn't feel the same way.

She kept silent and closed her heart every time she went in to treat him. He tried to speak to her, about going back to Ireland, about his work, about how they became friends, about his new life, but she never said a word. She didn't want to shut him out, but she needed to protect herself and it was easier this way.

'_He is your patient you will treat him as such.'_

The night before the morning she would leave for Downton, Sybil couldn't fall asleep. She tossed and turned in her tiny bed, but no relief came. Her mind raced with the knowledge that she and Tom would probably never meet again. She felt the tears coming fast and jumped out of bed. There was only one place in the world that would help her fall asleep that night.

Sybil came into his room late at night when everyone was asleep, including him. She held her dressing gown tightly against her body, almost hoping that it would become embedded in her skin, another layer to protect herself with. She came over to the side of his bed and sat down. Sybil stroked the side of his face. The stubble on his cheek lightly scratched her palm. She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and mumbled into his skin.

"My darling Tom, I love you so much. Please think of me fondly. I hope you can forgive me one day."

She moved Tom aside a little bit and moved his arm. She carefully laid down next to him and snuggled into the crook of his shoulder. She draped an arm over his exposed chest and pulled him closer to her. In his sleep, Tom turned his head slightly and laid his cheek on the crown of Sybil head and sighed. His arm came around her body and held her close. This is what she wanted.

Sybil dreamed of a life she could never have that night.

The next morning, she quietly slipped out of the room. Nurse Delpy had caught her closing the door to Tom's room but she said nothing that would give her away. Instead, Nurse Delpy quietly nodded her head and placed an assuring hand on her shoulder.

"I'll take good care of him."

. . .

Sybil found a job at Downton hospital three days after she had left York thanks to the glowing recommendation from Matron Jones.

Days passed but it didn't get any easier. Sybil found it more and more difficult to stay on task. Her thoughts would always somehow meander to Tom.

'_What is he doing? How is he? Is he thinking of me?'_

Every night before Sybil went to sleep, she replayed every conversation they had in her mind, over and over again. She cherished the time they spent together before her horrible realization.

…"_I asked a girl to marry me not too long ago, but she said no. I'm thinking of leaving because she refused me."_

…"_No! Don't do that!"_

… "_Why not? She doesn't love me."_

…"_Are you sure?"_

…"_Yes…No…I don't know. It doesn't seem worth the trouble anymore. She's caused me too much pain over the years, but I love her, or at least I think I do…"_

Sybil sat up in bed, her mind spinning. Tom had amnesia the moment he woke up. How could he have been talking about her?

An unfamiliar and uncomfortable feeling swept over Sybil.

He wasn't talking about her.

Sybil rushed out of her room and ran down the servant's staircase. She needed a glass of water to clear her head. Thankfully no one was in the kitchen. In the dark, she navigated herself to the cabinet to where the glasses were kept. She pulled one out and opened the water. The water hit the glass, cooling her hand in the process. She took two big unladylike gulps, turned the faucet off and placed the glass into to sink. She took deep breaths to calm herself down and heard two voices in Mrs. Hughes's sitting room.

Sybil was about to go back upstairs to think about Tom's mystery woman when she heard Carson say "Branson" through the door.

"So what are you going to do with him?"

"Two months wages. That's all. He'll be allowed to gather his things from his cottage as well."

"No reference?"

"Absolutely not. Not after what happened to Lady Sybil in Ripon."

"The man needs a job Mr. Carson."

"What would he do with an English reference in Ireland?"

"It wouldn't hurt."

"Humph."

"They say he's got no memory of ever working here."

"Then he can pick up where he left off when he goes back to Ireland tomorrow."

Sybil's heart sank even lower. Not only was there a woman he was in love with who wasn't her, he was probably going back to Ireland to marry her. She had to let him go. There was no way she could keep holding onto him without getting hurt even further. They needed a clean break. No mess, no fuss. Erase every trace of her from his life so he won't ever come back looking for her. They both needed to move forward and this was the only way Sybil thought of to do that.

She snuck out the back door of the servant's hall, like she had done dozens of times before and headed for the garage. Although it was pitch black outside, Sybil's legs took her where she needed to go without thinking. She saw the dark outline of the garage and ran to the door. She felt for the key Tom kept hidden between the boards of the garage and found it.

Once inside, Sybil turned on the lights and strode to the door at the back, connecting the garage to his cottage. She turned the knob and prayed that Papa put electricity in the cottage. Thankfully he did. She switched the light on and looked around. It was a small one room cottage. The cottage was cramped but it felt like Tom. Books were strewn on nightstand and papers littered the desk. A clean empty plate sat on the table, and next to it, a newspaper. A drawer full of his clothes and uniforms was slightly open. Sybil could tell Tom's bed was made in haste. The pillow wasn't fluffed and the imprint of his head was still on the pillow.

It felt as if Tom was about to walk through the door any minute and find her poking around his belongings.

Sybil bit her lip and let herself imagine what it would feel like to lay in Tom's bed with him in her arms, like she had done so many times in the hospital.

She shook her head out of her reverie and focused on what needed to be done: get rid of anything that would remind Tom of her. Sybil paced around the room. She remembered that Tom had accidentally revealed to her that he had kept journals.

Sybil immediately looked over to shelf above the desk and saw several leather bound journals. She walked over and reached up to get them. One by one, she took them off the shelf and carried them in her arms. She made sure not to open them. These were Tom's private thoughts. If he wanted her to see them, he would have shown her or told her already. She surveyed the room once more, making sure nothing else in the room would give her away. Nothing else came to mind.

She left the room, years of his thoughts written down being carried in her arms, confident she had taken everything that would remind him of her.

The book she had given him for Christmas last year laid untouched and forgotten on the nightstand.

. . .

He was leaving for Ireland today.

Sybil went into work a few hours early and was determined to stay a few hours late to make sure she wouldn't catch him arriving or leaving Downton. Although her heart ached to see him again, she willed herself not to want him anymore. He wasn't the Tom she fell in love with nor was he the Tom that fell in love with her. That Tom was long gone and Sybil needed to accept that and move forward.

It was hard to forget him. She was on the verge of bearing her heart and soul to him at the hospital. She was ready to throw everything away for him and choose to live a life full of happiness and love. It was a shame she realized that only hours after he left her for good.

Sybil tried her best to focus, but her mind wouldn't let her. Tom was all she thought about.

Doctor Clarkson had noticed that Sybil was much more preoccupied than usual. He acquainted her distractedness with coming in so early in the morning. "Nurse Crawley. I think it's best if you took your lunch break now."

Sybil sighed and nodded. She did feel tired and a bit overworked. A break was welcome.

She clocked out for lunch and stripped herself of her nurses cap. She rubbed her forehead and walked out of the hospital doors, forgetting the basket containing her lunch in the nurse's room. In her tired state, she did not notice the car passing by nor did she notice a particular passenger sitting in the front seat. It was only when an all too familiar voice called her name that she finally looked up.

Tom Branson, out of his chauffeur's uniform, walking towards her.

This was it. He was leaving.

Sybil was completely drained. She did not want to put anymore effort in trying to push him away. She let herself relax around him, letting the stress of the last few weeks melt away.

It was only when he asked her if she was Lord Grantham's daughter did she begin to feel flustered. She laughed instead, trying to hide how utterly uncomfortable she felt and trying to buy time to think of a lie that would dissuade him from finding out the truth.

"No. I'm the daughter of Lord Merton. We live several towns away."

'_Good. He'll never know,' _she thought.

She examined his face. He looked somewhat disappointed, but that must have been her eyes deceiving her. She was too tired to know what was real and what wasn't by this point.

She asked him if he was leaving for Ireland, both wanting and not wanting to know the truth.

"Aye. There's nothing for me here."

'_Except for me, but you'll never know.'_

Tears started to well up in her eyes as the thought crossed her mind. She tried her best to blink them back and fight, but it was getting to be too much. It was too real. Tom was leaving and he was never coming back for her. This would be the last time she would ever see him again.

Sybil felt Tom reach for her hands and she bravely looked into his face. He was saying something, but she couldn't hear him. He was so far away from her in this moment and she focused on trying to memorize the blue of his eyes, the chestnut brown of his hair, the way his mouth moved when he said Nurse Crawley, the way her hands fit so perfectly in his.

It was so horrible how in love she was with Tom. It consumed her. Every waking moment was for him and he was leaving her, not knowing how she truly felt about him.

She wanted to admit it, but she was afraid he wouldn't want to stay in England for her. She's already asked too much of him. He needed his heart back. He needed to be set free.

She would bear the burden of a loveless life now, not him. It comforted her but saddened her immensely.

Their final moment together was broken by the sound of one of the senior nurses calling her name.

She slipped away from him and ran towards the hospital. She turned back around, not daring to look in his eyes, knowing she would spill the secrets of her heart. She said a curt goodbye, still feeling the tingling sensation of his hands on hers.

She meant to not give him her address.


	8. Chapter 8

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**These next few chapters are very Tom heavy, so if you wanted Sybil's side of the story, you have to wait a few more chapters!**

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Chapter Eight

"_Nurse Crawley?"_

_The figure in the gray in the corner of the hospital room did not turn around._

"_Nurse Crawley?"_

_He hears her quiet sobs in the corner and immediately starts to walk over to comfort her. As Tom steps closer and closer to her, she, along with the hospital room, dissolves away into a warm summer day. He is on the lawns of Downton in his chauffeur's uniform, among many people he does not recognize. Tom starts to run. A large tent comes into sight and he slows down. He slows down by a group of young ladies in white and stops. He taps one the one with the hat and dark hair and she turns around. But before he can see her face, the scene explodes into a white light and he can feel himself falling. He hears a young woman's voice surrounding him in the white. It's sounds familiar._

"_My darling Tom, I love you so much. Please think of me fondly. I hope you can forgive me one day."_

_Confused and terrified, Tom lets himself scream._

"_HELP ME! I NEED YOU! PLEASE!"_

_Tom lands heavily on a patch of grass. He stands up and dusts himself off. He looks around and there standing in the archway are a man and a woman. He can't see their faces, but the man is wearing his forest green uniform and the woman is wearing a blue coat and skirt. _

'_That's me.' Tom thinks, 'But who is she?'_

_He carefully and slowly walks over to try and see her face but his heart starts to ache. He's never known this kind of pain before. He stumbles and falls on the cobblestone path. He glances up to try and look at her again, but she is covered by two lights getting brighter and brighter and the sound of a blaring horn getting louder and louder._

_Tom knows this is it for him._

"_God have mercy on me."_

Tom wakes up with a start. His heart is racing and he is covered in a cold sweat. He gasps for air and runs a hand over his face, trying to calm himself down.

He's had the same dream for over a month now.

. . .

He had found a new job working as a mechanic at a car shop outside of Dublin. The pay wasn't as good as Downton, so he was told, but a job was better than no job. Adjusting to life back in Dublin wasn't difficult. It was the same old life he was living, as if he'd never gone to England in the first place. Tom picked up his life right where he left off. He stayed with his Mam and younger brother until he got on his feet, but he yearned to leave and expand his world.

That familiar itch to leave home was growing stronger everyday. It was the same itch that he felt so many years ago.

Tom started to become restless. He loved Dublin, but it wasn't enough. He wanted adventure and excitement. Most of all, he wanted someone to share it with. As he was boarding to boat in Liverpool, he briefly thought about staying in England to properly court Nurse Crawley. She was a beautiful and intelligent young woman. Looking back on it now, it was safe to say that he fell in love with her at first sight. She was so bright and bubbly. Her personality sparkled and her smile could light up his soul. But it wasn't meant to be. She was hopelessly in love with another man. He couldn't steal her away from him. He found himself thinking more and more about her.

'_What is she doing? How is she? Is she thinking of me?'_

Tom's mam could sense his loneliness and hated seeing Tom so down all the time. During dinner one night, his mam tried to lighten up his spirit. Tom poked around his carrots, still thinking of the wonderful woman who nursed him back to health.

"I hate seeing you like this Tommy. Find a nice girl. Settle down with her. Give me some grandchildren. God knows Kieran will never marry. Married to his work he always says."

Tom was desperate. Mam was right. He was already 25, about to turn 26. No family of his own with no one to love and no one to love him back.

'_I love Nurse Crawley, but she's half a world away, in love with someone else.'_

Tom sighed and gave in.

"What about Edna?"

Edna was far from second best, but she would do. They may have had their problems in the past, but they have something that he and Nurse Crawley didn't have, a history he could remember. He could put up with Edna. He has in the past. Why not now?

Mrs. Branson scrunched her nose in disgust.

"What about her?"

"How's she doing?"

She scoffed and went back to eating.

"Last I heard she was on a boat to America. Haven't heard anything from her since."

'_Since she told me she didn't love me and left me at the altar.'_

Tom sighed. He was never going to find someone. Not even Edna could love him. How could he expect anyone else to? Why didn't the women he love, love him back?

"Did you love her Tommy? Truly?"

Tom knew the answer then and he knew it now. He never really did. He loved Edna as a friend but he was never madly in love with her. He felt love, but it wasn't the all-consuming, passion-filled love he knew he was capable of giving to another person. His love for Edna was pedestrian, boring, passionless when he looked back on it now. There was a stronger kind of love he felt and he knew about it. His love for Edna was nothing to compared to the love he felt deep in his heart.

"It felt like I was back then. But when I think about Edna now, that love is so much duller."

"Time heals all wounds Tommy."

"But that's the thing Mam. Time didn't pass for me. I should feel the same way I felt about her then as I do now, but I don't. I don't know how, but I feel that I know a deeper and stronger love and it's not connected to Edna. I've lost something Mam."

"You lost your memory."

Tom shook his head.

"It's not that. Sometimes, late at night, I can feel myself thinking, but I don't know what I'm thinking about. I'll catch my mind working, but then it all blurs out. Does that make sense?"

"Not really, no."

"Mam, I've lost something much more important than my memory."

Tom was struck by his realization. He was right. What was more important that his memory though? He went back to poking around his carrots when his mother sighed.

"Well if it helps, I've saved the letters you've sent me. Maybe what you've lost is in those letters."

Tom was dumbstruck. _'What?'_ He looked back up at his mother, trying to see if it was really true or not.

"I sent you letters?" Tom asked.

"Of course you did," she replied.

"Did you reply back?"

"Of course I did. I'm your mam. Am I not allowed to worry about my son?"

Tom furrowed his brow. Something wasn't right.

"I didn't bring any letters back from England."

His mam went back to eating her peas and replied, knowing her son well enough to know his mannerisms and habits.

"You stuck them in your journal. You've always stuck letters in your journals."

"But that's the thing. I didn't have any journals."

She looked up at him. The same confused looks crossed their faces. She put her knife and fork down. Mrs. Branson knew her son. She knew him well. This was a habit he had picked up from his Da. His Da always kept journals and was constantly writing. It wasn't like Tom to abandon his journals.

"That's odd. You've always kept a journal since you were a boy."

"I thought it was odd as well."

"Did you leave them there?"

"No. They were never there."

She stood up, now finished with her dinner, and placed the plate in the sink, all the while trying to figure out how Tom could have left his journals and letters in England.

"Hmm. Well, if you want the letters, they're on the desk. Though I doubt you'll want them. There's nothing very important in them. Just hellos and how are yous. It's Niall's letters you want. Those are in that same pile. Goodnight Tom."

She placed a kiss on Tom's forehead and went upstairs.

Once Tom was finished with his dinner, he immediately went to the desk in the sitting room. He scoured over the letters, trying to find out something, anything, about the last missing three years of his life. It was weird for Tom to see his own handwriting, his own words, describing his life and not remembering any of it.

There was nothing interesting, driving the family around, feeling homesick, becoming friends with some of the staff. Nothing out of the ordinary. After reading a few of his letters to his younger brother Niall, Tom started seeing a new person creep into the letters. A suffragette. No description of her, no name, just 'the suffragette.'

_…I met a suffragette at a rally in Ripon. She's smart. Smarter than any girl I've ever met back home…_

_…Very funny, but no. I won't tell you her name…_

_…She lives near me, but I can't visit her. Her parents and her family wouldn't approve of me…_

_…I think I am. No. I know I am. But I don't think our families would approve. I don't even know if she feels the same way…_

_…I did see her for Christmas though. We exchanged books. I haven't had a chance to read it yet. She recommended me a mountain of books to read and I'm only halfway done with her list. I gave her a list of books to read as well…_

_…I know I said I wouldn't do anything drastic, but she's leaving and I don't know what to do. If I don't tell her now, I may get drafted while she's away and she'll never know how I feel. I'm going to do it. I'm coming back to Ireland with her on my arm or else I'm not coming home at all…_

Tom heard a knock on the doorway, turned around, and saw his brother standing in the doorway to the sitting room.

"Do you know who this suffragette is Niall?"

Niall walked over and glanced over Tom's shoulder to look at the letters all spread out.

"No, but it sounded like you were in love with her."

He was right.

"I think I was. I think I am."

"Do you remember anything about her?"

"No."

"What luck."

Tom sighed and put his elbows on the desk. He rested his chin on his hands and left his thoughts roam. He thought of the suffragette. If he was so in love with her, as those letter implied, how on earth could he forget about her? She would have to show up somehow…his dreams. Her. The suffragette. She has to be in his dreams. She has to the one in the blue. Who else could it be?

'_It can't be Nurse Crawley. I know her anywhere. I don't know the woman in the white hat. She must be one of Lord Grantham's daughters. But the woman in blue…She must be my suffragette.'_

It hit Tom.

"I dream of her."

"What?"

"I have the same exact dream every night. And every night she's the last one I see."

"Tom, dreams aren't-'

Tom didn't want to hear what Niall had to say. He was convinced that the woman in blue was his mystery woman. She had to manifest somewhere. Dreams were the perfect place for subconscious thoughts to reveal themselves.

"No, listen. I have this friend in England. She's a nurse and she knew me while I was working at Downton. If I can write a letter to her, maybe she'll know the suffragette I'm talking about in my letters. Her name is Nurse Crawley. Did I ever mention her in my letters? We were good friends apparently"

"It's the first I've ever heard her name."

Tom turned back to the desk and pulled out a sheet of blank paper.

"I think I'm going to send a letter. Shit. I don't know her address."

Niall reached around and pulled out one of Tom's old envelopes.

"Here. You wrote down the address to Downton Abbey when you wrote to us. You can probably send it there and they would know where to send it."

. . .

Nurse Crawley, Downton Hospital  
In the care of Lord and Lady Grantham of Downton Abbey  
Downton Village, Yorkshire  
England

Nurse Crawley,

Hello, this is Tom Branson. How are you? I didn't have a chance to finish saying thank you when I last saw you, so I will finish it now. Thank you for caring for me.

I was going through old letters that I had sent to my family while I was living in England, trying to learn more about my past. I stumbled upon a woman in my letters that I had named 'the suffragette'. Do you know who she is and if you do, can you tell me her name and how to reach her?

Please thank Lord and Lady Grantham for passing this along to you.

Your friend,

Tom Branson

. . .

A month passed and an envelope arrived addressed to Tom. He pulled out a letter and found his letter folded inside and unopened.

. . .

Mr. Branson,

I regret to inform you that Nurse Crawley does not work at Downton Hospital any longer. She was offered a higher position in different hospital and she accepted. Her whereabouts are unknown. If you wish, you may contact her family for more information.

Please accept my sincerest apologies,

Dr. Clarkson

. . .

No words could describe the immense sadness and weight that fell on Tom's shoulders at that very moment.


	9. Chapter 9

**Lots of quick updates, but I'm not quite sure you guys liked that last chapter or if it was a slow day. Thank you to those who reviewed, I'll get you if I hadn't already.**

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Chapter Nine

Tom dropped the letter on the desk in his room and collapsed on his bed after changing into his pajamas. Another dead end. He stared at the ceiling and groaned. Was he doomed never to find out about his past? There were so many pieces missing. He couldn't move forward without figuring out what was behind him. He was at his wits end. Having three years of your life erased without a thought was unnerving. He had to know what happened.

There was a knock on the door followed by Niall walking in. He headed straight for Tom's bookshelf and helped himself to a book. This was a common occurrence between Tom and Niall. If one person had trouble falling asleep, they would take a book from the shelf and read until they fell asleep. Tonight was no different.

"Hey Tom? Do you mind if I borrow this book?"

Tom turned his body and propped his head up on his arm. "Which one?"

"Civil Disobedience and Other Essays by Henry David Thoreau."

He had seen that book many times but never bothered to open it. Not out of laziness, but out of a true forgetfulness. Tom vowed to read it on the boat back to Dublin, but his weak stomach protested. He promised to pick it up and read it a few weeks ago, but he was engrossed in work and was too knackered to read it when he got home. It sat on the shelf, untouched and unread. He remembered when he packed it in his suitcase back in England. It wasn't a book he recognized, but he assumed it was his. It was there amongst all his other books. It must be his. He must have bought it during his his three years in England.

"I don't remember buying Civil Dis-"

Tom stopped mid sentence. There was something that felt…almost right…

Niall snapped him out of his daze.

"What were you saying?"

Tom shook off his momentary lapse and continued.

"Oh sorry. I meant to say I don't remember buying any Thoreau. I'm not sure why I have it in the first place. You can read it if you'd like."

Niall took the book from the shelf and headed out of Tom's room.

"You probably bought it while you were in England. I'll return it in the morning. Thanks. Night."

"Night. Close the door on your way out."

The door shut behind Niall leaving Tom alone again in his room. As Tom shut his light off, he couldn't help but think of the book Niall took from his shelf. He shut his eyes and let sleep take him away.

'_That was…oddly comforting…' _was Tom's last thought before the darkness consumed him.

. . .

_Tom was back in the same dream he's had for the past two months. He had seen it so many times before that he had memorized every scene, down to the last detail. _

_Nurse Crawley crying in the corner of his hospital room. He walks over to her and everything dissolves._

_The young aristocratic woman standing outside on a hot summer day in an all white dress. She turns around and he doesn't see her face. He falls._

_The suffragette's voice comes through the blinding light and he lands at the courtyard of the York Hospital, staring at himself and his suffragette._

_Tom's had this dream so many times before that knows now not to venture any closer. Any closer and the pain will well up in his chest. As if it wasn't bad enough that he wakes up in a cold sweat and a fast heartbeat, he'd best avoid waking up shaking like a leaf as well._

_Tom watches from afar as his twin and the suffragette speak in quiet tones. Tom's twin seems unhappy. From his suffragette's slumped shoulders and her head angled downward, she seems unhappy as well. His twin puts his hat back on and Tom knows his time is coming. He knows the light and the blaring horn is coming soon to wake him. _

_He tries to stall to get a little more time to figure her out. The light is coming fast and Tom has to think of something before it takes him. He does the only sensible thing he could think of at the moment._

"_Wait! My suffragette!"_

_The light stops coming. His suffragette turns to him, face still clouded in the shadow of the archway. His twin, gone from the scene and Tom, instead, is in his twin's uniform. He is still in the middle of the courtyard while she stands motionless underneath the archway._

'It's working,' _Tom thinks._

_He takes a risky step forward. He remembers the pain as he approaches her. The pain is much worst than before. It burns is lungs. It makes his heart explode. His stomach is in knots. He is in terrible pain, but he doesn't give a damn. He's become numb to it all and the only thing that matters is her._

"_My love. My darling suffragette."_

"_My darling Tom, I love you so much. Come back to me."_

"_I'm here love."_

_Tom takes more steps forward, but he finds himself not moving from his spot. She is still yards away, but he can hear her as if she were standing face to face with him._

"_Please wake up."_

_Tom shakes his head _

"_No. I can't wake up now."_

_Tom feels his body being slowly pulled to her. He is still a good ways away, but he's getting closer and closer._

"_What's my name?"_

"_I don't know."_

"_JESUS CHRIST, TOM BRANSON!"_

_A cold chill of recognition runs through his veins. He's heard that before._

"_Nurse Crawley? Is that you? Are you my suffragette?"_

_In the distance, he sees the shrouded figure nod ever so slightly._

"_What is my given name?"_

_Tom cursed himself. He doesn't know it._

"_You never told me."_

_Tom fears that this may be the end. The light comes. He can see the two lights coming in the distance as well as the far off echo of a horn sounding. _

'No. Not now. Not when I'm so close. Nurse Crawley is my suffragette. I love her. I know I do. Please. Give me more time. I need a little more time.'

_Tom searched for something, anything in his mind that would stop him from waking. What did he say before? What was it? He lets his mouth spill the words before he thinks about what he says._

"_Civil Disobedience."_

_Nurse Crawley sadly shook her head no. She turned to walk away from him, about to disappear into the corridor. Tom didn't want her to leave. He ran towards her and reached her in the archway. He grabbed her hands and looked at her. Her face was now un-shrouded. He saw all of her now. It was her. _

Nurse Crawley. My beautiful savior. My love. But her name. What is her name?

_Tom searched her face as he tried to work it out in his mind._

_There was something about the words. He just couldn't place it._

_Civil disobedience. No._

_Civil. No._

_Civil. _

_Cyvil._

_Cvbil_

_Sybil._

_Sybil. Sybil Crawley._

_Lady Sybil Crawley, daughter of the Earl of Grantham._

_Nurse Sybil Crawley, the woman who brought me back from the brink of death._

_Sybil Crawley, suffragette and love of my life._

_I found you._

_Her name crossed his mind and he smiled at her. She smiled back as if she knew he knew. He was about to take her in his arms and spin her around when the white light engulfed the two of them._

_Waves of color crashed all around him, scenes of his life flashed before his eyes. He remembered all of them._

_The boat ride to England. Driving up to Downton Abbey. Meeting Lady Sybil for the first time, helping her into the car. A warm smile and a welcoming "Hello." The stack of pamphlets he gave her about the vote. Her blue harem pants. Driving her to rallys. The count. The terror he felt seeing her blood splattered head. The relief he felt knowing she was okay. The garden party. His hand intertwined in hers. The feel of her lace glove on his bare skin. The way she looked up at him after she realized what they were doing. The defiance he showed when Mrs. Hughes confronted him. Their talks in the garage. The late nights he spent in bed thinking about her. The endless pages he wrote in his journals and in his letters about her. Pining away for her love from across the lawns. _

_She was the key._

_The colors started to fade away as Tom stepped closer and closer to consciousness. _

Tom woke up alone, heart racing, tears streaming down his cheeks. A huge smile was on his face.

"Lord Grantham's daughter. Nurse Crawley. My suffragette. They're all the same person."

Tom jumped out of bed and ran across the hall to Niall's room. He picked up the book laying on the nightstand and opened the cover.

. . .

_Christmas 1915_

_To My Dearest Friend Tom Branson, _

_May this book help you in your cause._

_With all the Love in the World,_

_Sybil Crawley_

. . .

Tom ran his fingers over her delicate handwriting.

"Sybil Crawley. I remember everything."


End file.
